


the moment i saw you (the magic began)

by littleyeonbin



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Coming of Age, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleyeonbin/pseuds/littleyeonbin
Summary: in which choi soobin left a few days before their 18th summer ended and yeonjun has to face all the days that followed on his own.cw // mention of depression, suicides, suicidal thoughts, suicides attempts, panic attack
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 32
Kudos: 76





	1. prologue

_all the days before_

Choi Yeonjun first met Choi Soobin in one winter morning, under the gloomy grey sky that rained heavy snow. It was a strange day to move in, a 5 year-old Yeonjun thought, for it made the whole moving in process way messier than what it was, but being his usual curious self, he still made his way across the road, to the house that was now occupied after being emptied for a quite some time. Yeonjun couldn’t help feeling excited as he skipped over, and in no time, he found himself standing in front of the slightly opened door; his naturally pouty lips formed a tiny ‘o’ as he saw a couple tall men moving here and there with boxes in their arms.

Before he could even peek more, the door was pulled inwards, revealing another boy of his height—maybe 3cm shorter than he was—and he had a telescope under his arm, something that Yeonjun had seen many times on TV when he had a marathon of his favourite educational program, Backyard Science. Inquisitive, Yeonjun couldn’t help asking in both excitement and curiosity, his tiny index finger pointing to the instrument the other had on him.

“Is that real?”

The shorter smiled in delight at the question, his dimples popping on both sides of his cheeks and Yeonjun thought that he probably had lost the first spot of having the squishiest cheeks in their small neighbourhood. He felt a tad too competitive, but his amazement at that moment managed to conceal his competitiveness. The other stepped out to the porch, closing the door behind him before he turned his attention back to this boy who apparently had appeared out of nowhere, but judging by how he was still in his planets-printed pyjamas with a duck plushy hanging from his fingers, Soobin figured that he must be around here too.

“Of course it is!” Soobin answered, his voice matched Yeonjun’s excitement. “My dad got it for me for my birthday a few days ago! Would you like to try it?”

Yeonjun’s eyes lit up at the offer. “Can I?”

“Of course!” Soobin then pointed to the sky. “Let’s hope that it doesn’t snow tonight. Maybe we can see the moon at the very least.”

Yeonjun beamed a little too excitedly, extending out his hand in front both of them, smiling brightly his cheeks hurt. “I’m Yeonjun! Choi Yeonjun!”

His hand was shook almost immediately; his smile was just as wide and bright as Yeonjun’s. “I’m a Choi too,” a giggle followed—something that Yeonjun had grown to adore a little too much for his own good—and then the boy continued in a heartbeat. “Soobin. Choi Soobin.”

That night, when the snow had stopped falling, the two found themselves at the small attic in Yeonjun’s house, sitting before the huge window that was carved on the roof, looking at the endless night sky through Soobin’s precious telescope. There wasn’t a moon like how they hoped for, but they caught a sight of Eridanus, and it was just as equally as good—better, perhaps.

Yeonjun couldn’t thank Soobin enough for the opportunity—and maybe he really was thankful for the other—that Soobin left the house as the midnight approached with Yeonjun’s favourite duck plushy in his right hand and his telescope in his left. Yeonjun said that it was both a thank you and birthday gift for Soobin.

Yeonjun’s vocabulary wasn’t huge, but unlike how it was with the gloomy sky that day when he first met Soobin, the boy wasn’t _that_. He didn’t know the word back then, so he grew up describing how it felt instead of just pinpointing and fixing to just a word (Choi Yeonjun figured that Choi Soobin deserves more than just a word anyway). Hence, he wrote somewhere in his diary that Choi Soobin was that boy who turned his life into nothing like the sombre and sunless sky; he turned it into something _less gloomy_ , something _more lovely_.

 _Something in the lines of that_.

Yeonjun couldn’t remember all the days that existed before Soobin. It seemed as if they were almost non-existent; because what was Choi Yeonjun without Choi Soobin really? It took them only three days to really click, and a week to become the well-known duo in their small town. Yeonjun was an only child, and Soobin’s brother and sisters were already in universities and boarding school that they were rarely at home, so they had no other choice but each other.

It wasn’t a problem, honestly, because they had one other and that was all that mattered. Choi Yeonjun needed a companion—a playmate mostly and initially—and Choi Soobin was there, having the same need, too.

At 10, Yeonjun thought that in Soobin, he needn’t need anything else. Soobin was _enough_. He was enough. Soobin thought of the same thing.

A year passed, and another, and another.

Before they knew it, they literally grew up together, before each other’s eyes, hand-in-hand, step by step. Yeonjun was there for Soobin all along. Soobin was there for Yeonjun all along. Through the ups and the lows. Came hell or high water. _Through it all_. Not that there was a lot for a 13 year old to take in, to face on a daily basis, but perhaps it wasn’t a hell of a lot because over the years, Yeonjun made the world less suck for the other, and Soobin made it more bearable than what it really was.

At 15, they went to the Junior’s formal together just for the sake of wanting to know how it felt like—out of peer pressure mostly—and to see whether it was as huge as what people made it seemed to be; the two really didn’t and couldn’t understand the hype on such overrated things. Soobin turned down a girl from his class, who wasn’t just a girl because she was apparently his crush; the prettiest of their grade too, just so Yeonjun would have a date for the night. Yeonjun thought it was out of pity, but Soobin said that he’d really rather spend it with him than with anyone else, because he was... _Choi Yeonjun_. He knew Yeonjun through and through, and if there was anything he knew about the girl, it was that she was pretty, and just that. Yeonjun, Soobin remembered thinking, was way beyond pretty. He’d pick Yeonjun.

Choi Soobin would always pick Choi Yeonjun, in a heartbeat, in the brightest daylight and the darkest of dawn, under whatever circumstances.

As simple as that.

That night as they headed home, on the damp empty street because it was pouring heavily earlier, in the sleeping blue neighbourhood, under the dim streetlight and a billion of stars, Soobin asked Yeonjun for a dance. Yeonjun was too anxious to make a move when they were in the school hall where the prom took place earlier so they ended up munching on free food to their hearts’ contents instead. The thing is, Yeonjun was too pretty that night to leave without having him be swept off his feet (though his necktie had loosened and hair was dishevelled into a pretty mess), and Soobin thought it would be a waste if the night ended just like that. Hence, he asked for a dance.

Soobin offered his hand. Giggling like some lovesick fools, Yeonjun accepted, placing his hands on Soobin’s shoulders with the other’s hands on his waist. With Soobin’s terribly unstable singing began to accompany their steps, they moved. Left to right. Right to left. An awkward twirl. A step on the foot. Another step on the foot. A better twirl. Right to left. Another twirl and the best one yet. Left to right. A wince because Yeonjun really had to step on Soobin’s white Vans for the nth time. Soobin hitting the last note in a way Yeonjun was sure all the music agencies would reject. The last twirl. A soft tug to a one step closer to one another. A kiss on the forehead to end the night.

Yeonjun felt dizzy in a good kind of way, and _he definitely was swept of his feet_.

At 17, Soobin clumsily made his way to Yeonjun’s house with a huge tub of (disgusting but he would let it pass just for today) mint choco ice cream in his hands, stumbling on the front porch but he was quick to ignore the sharp pain on his shin and made his way upstairs to Yeonjun’s little safest haven (his, too), but not before tripping over the last step of stair. The loud crash caused Yeonjun to come out of his room, and with croak and hoarse voice from crying a little too much, he asked, “are you dumb?”

Yeonjun then helped Soobin to get up, thanking the other for the ice cream and aggressively eating the ice cream, all in while ugly crying at the same time. Soobin sat at the side, dabbing the other’s cheeks with tissues to dry the tears away, cursing the basketball captain of their grade for breaking Yeonjun’s heart as if he had many to begin with.

“That Jung Woo—“

“Don’t you dare say his name!”

“That son of a bitch, he’s about to catch these hands!”

Yeonjun thought how _easy_ it would be to love Soobin instead of anyone else.

He wasn’t that _heartbroken_ ; he rated it with a 4 out of 10 when Soobin asked how much it hurt. He claimed that he cried because it was his pride that was hurt, not him (Yeonjun had asked Wooyoung to be his date for senior prom, but he was turned down rather cruelly). Soobin wanted to ask how it was different, but he didn’t. Hence, senior prom that year, the two spent the night in Yeonjun’s attic once again, sitting before the huge window that highlighted the whole sky, taking turns behind Soobin’s telescope. Thick astronomy book lied between the two as they tried to figure which constellations they spotted that night, and when Yeonjun looked up to Soobin with twinkling eyes and satisfied smile, Soobin found something that was more beautiful than the stars.

“This is way better than that stupid prom,” Yeonjun said, looking at the beauty before his eyes; the stars and moon seemed to appear way closer than usual that night. He had to wonder whether it was just him. “Thank you, Binnie.”

Soobin’s hand found its way through the dark to Yeonjun’s hand.

The forehead kiss from 2 years ago was upgraded to an eskimo kiss, and Yeonjun thought he’d have his first, real kiss right then and there as well because the timing was right and he was with the right person, but Soobin pulled back. It was close; the tension was undeniably strong, just as strong as the unseen attraction, and Yeonjun thought Soobin was really a breathtaking _almost._

Things carried on as usual though the boys knew that something between them had indeed changed though they couldn’t put a finger on it; it was just something so subtle and unnoticed until they paid a closer attention to it, until that point of their lives.

Yeonjun wouldn’t deny that he felt a tad too _disappointed_ , though he never brought it up because it was a line that he didn’t have the courage to cross just yet. What they had was good; he was afraid it’d turn into something _lesser_ than good once he crossed the line. It was good; why would he change it? It was enough for Yeonjun, or so he thought, and he ended up bottling everything inside, more and more day by day, because Soobin had grown into a magnificent boy he ever laid his eyes on and Yeonjun’s vocabulary was still just as limited.

Yeonjun was determined to figure it out, though. He gave himself time until some times after high school graduation because he thought he had forever, and forever was one of the words that he had longed associated with Soobin.

He did have that forever; Soobin knew it too because damn, forever was nothing but _Choi Yeonjun_ , but perhaps there was more that was going on within Choi Soobin beneath the surface that Yeonjun had failed to notice.

Until he did. Until his 18th summer.


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere during the transition from 17 turning 18, Choi Yeonjun had a reoccurring dream in his sleeps. It didn’t happen all tad too often, and he slept well almost all the time. He didn’t dream much, but that one particular dream, whenever it visited him while he was far, far off from the conscious land, it always made him wonder what it meant – whether it even had a meaning at the first place. Whichever it was, he couldn’t quite grasp it. If there was anything he was sure of, it was that he was never fond of that dream, for it always ended up making him blue as hell.

Yeonjun knew right away that the dream took place at a theme park he usually went with his parents when he was a kid. It was one of his favourite places on earth – a place that had a close definition to _heaven_ in his vocabulary. Soobin would always tag along, and they’d sit at the backseat of Yeonjun’s dad’s car, and they’d always sing to whatever songs that came on the radio at the top of their lungs. They always had the windows rolled down, and their hair would be in a tangled mess after and cheeks flushed and throats burned, but it was one of the moments Yeonjun wished he could relive forever. That went on for years, and it was safe to say that Yeonjun’s parents were as equally whipped for Choi Soobin as Yeonjun was (except that he didn’t know it yet).

When Soobin passed his driving test and attained a licence at the age of 16, and earned the trust of both of his and Yeonjun’s, often times he’d drive them to the theme park with his dad’s old truck. It was a three-hour drive back and forth since it was located in Seoul, and for that he had to work hard to make them entrust him with the responsibility. Since the radio was no longer working, Soobin would play the songs from his phone instead, and they’d sing to their hearts’ content like all the times before. Yeonjun thought they sounded hopelessly terrible though he was a better one between both of them, but it was still lovely nevertheless. Moments spent with Soobin had always been lovely – too lovely Yeonjun thought the other was the loveliest boy to ever exist. It was a secret he thought he’d bring to his grave; there was no way he’d let Soobin know – _a secret he wished he had the guts to snitch instead_.

At the theme park, there was a rollercoaster that the two really enjoyed to ride. It was called ‘The Mummy’, a ride inspired by the movie of the same name, though they had never watched the movie even once throughout their lives. It was thrilling, with ridiculous speed and even more ridiculous 90 degrees backward drop, and Yeonjun and Soobin would ride it for at least 9 times whenever they visited the place. Soobin’s hand would always find its way through the darkness towards Yeonjun’s hand, right when they fell backward as strident screams left their throats and eyes shut tight, and Yeonjun felt dizzy due to the adrenaline rush he felt out of the ride and _mostly_ , Soobin’s sweaty hands. It was gross, he thought, but he liked it, a little too much for his own good.

Yeonjun had to wonder, when they dropped and fell in the dark, dangerous and done in a blink of an eye, did _it_ feel like that too? Did _falling for Choi Soobin feel like that too_ – blindly and quickly and tremendously, but harmless anyway, because the ride was done but he still held his hand, making sure that Choi Yeonjun was safe and sound. Yeonjun let it stay and remain as a thought, daydreaming and dreaming between days and nights, another wonder he had yet to find the answer. It was all in his head – never real because he was fine having Soobin closer in his dreams and just that.

Yeonjun knew the ride was real, that it was his favourite ride, and that if he was to go to the theme park again, the deadly rollercoaster would still be there. The memories he had was real. However, it was otherwise that happened in his reoccurring dream. In his dream, the rollercoaster _wasn’t there_ at all. It was missing. He remembered walking to every crook and nanny of the theme park, only to find that his effort wasn’t paid off and he was definitely disappointed. It was confusing and frustrating as hell. Soobin was also there in his dream, but unlike how bothered Yeonjun was with the absence of their favourite ride, the latter was fine – good, even. He still had the best time of his life that it made Yeonjun hate him (only in the dream because he could never hate him for real).

Yeonjun would wake up, sleep, and go on with his life but when the dream occurred for the eleventh – or twelfth times, he couldn’t recall – he woke up _crying_. God, how he _hated_ that dream. He had never cried because of a goddamned dream before – though some made him feel blue as hell – but that one night, he woke up, pulled his knees to his chest and cried his heart out that his eyes turned swollen and puffy the next day. He never told anyone about that dream, even Soobin, because he thought that it was embarrassing for an 18-year-old to cry in his sleep simply because his favourite ride went missing in a dream. He figured right away that he’d sound ridiculous and funny.

However, it was also the summer that Choi Yeonjun had gained some kind of insights – new ones, and ones that changed his old ones. It was a summer that he learned and started to figure a lot of things he thought he was finally growing _up._ It sucked, in Yeonjun’s opinion. Growing up sucked. He regretted wishing to grow up when the candles were blown off during his 5th birthday. Being an adult was undeniably the dumbest thing he had ever done.

The next day, after having his 17th one, Yeonjun skipped over to Soobin’s for their usual weekly movie marathon session. It was quite an unproductive summer for the two, putting little to no efforts to find part-time jobs to fill in the emptiness of the days now that school was permanently over, believing that they pretty much deserved it before they went to embark on a new chapter of their lives: universities. Perhaps that was the perk of being an only child, for Yeonjun because he was spoiled since the very beginning by his parents, and Soobin being the last one out of four siblings, his brother and sisters were generous enough to give him money every week.

Hence, they spent most (read: all) of their times together, exploring their tiny town, enjoying the summer skies and heat, watching fireflies in small woods they had accidentally found during one of the little adventures, even miraculously found an old, shabby rooftop of an abandoned shoe-factory not too far from the street they lived in. Yeonjun thought it was a an amazing summer so far, with his stupid crush for the other got even worse, and perhaps noticeable day by day, but Soobin was, of course, too dense to notice. Perhaps he did notice, only that he chose to act like he didn’t. Yeonjun didn’t mind whichever, satisfied with what he had as of the moment.

When he entered Soobin’s room that late evening, he found the other had already had everything ready, from putting off the DVD on into the player, to all the blanket forts on the bed, his room was casted in golden glow that came from his bedside lamp. He offered the other a smile, Soobin returned with one of his own – lazy and lopsided but still too beautiful – and Yeonjun flew to cloud nine.

“What are we watching?” Yeonjun asked as he made himself comfortable on the bed, pulling the comforter to cover his lower half as he leaned comfortably against the headrest.

“To Write Love on Her Arms,” Soobin briefly answered as he too made himself comfortable on the other side of the bed, shoulders touching, knees knocking softly beneath the warmth of the comforter.

“What is it about?”

Soobin waved his hand, “Shhh, shut up and watch.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes rather dramatically at the remark before fixing his gaze on the screen. It was the first time they ever watched the movie (Soobin had rented the DVD last weekend from a small film rental store a few blocks down the street), and strangely, for Yeonjun, it _hit_ way too close to home. It hit him hard. He didn’t know in what way – he couldn’t pinpoint any – it just hit him. It didn’t him in a way that made him cry, only that it left quite a powerful tug on his heartstrings he was almost breathless from the emotions alone.

The story centred on 19-year-old Renee Yohe and her struggles with drug addiction, bipolar disorder, self-harm and other life issues that she could barely face. She initially was fond of fairy tales and everything in the lines of that; however, as she grew up, life took a different turn for her – a bit too cruel – and she realised all along that unlike all the fairy tales she had grown up with, hers was on a darker side of the scale. During the whole 102 minutes of runtime, it showed Renee’s struggles and despairs, helplessness and hopelessness, drugs and blood and razor blades, her bleak darkness and the attempts and efforts she put in with the help of a few friends to see the light once more. It was heavy, and though Yeonjun was too clouded with his own emotions to make a quick judgment on the story, he was quick to conclude that if you needed help, it was very much _okay_ to seek for it.

It made Yeonjun sad and blue as hell, the movie. When he looked at Renee, all he could see was sadness, and how she had depressing, raining grey clouds following her above her head. He didn’t know he managed to do that though. It took a thief to catch another, he figured, so did it take a sad person to catch another sad person? Yeonjun knew he wasn’t sad; he wasn’t happy 24/7, but he didn’t lock himself in his room and bawl himself out when things didn’t go his way. He wondered, how could you tell, _just by looking_ , that someone was sad? Did you have to be one yourself to know? He was looking for the answer, but perhaps he would never have the answers to all the questions that he had in this universe.

As an image of Renee flashed by his mind, with her all-black outfits, constant nail biting and shakiness, deadly pale face with her insights were totally different from Yeonjun’s, he had a shudder. He tilted his head to the side to look at his unanimated friend. The screen was long frozen and black, but it seemed as if Soobin was lost in his own thoughts, a bubble that Yeonjun didn’t dare to pop. Thus, he sat there, silent and careful, trying not to cause any movement that could startle the other, and he observed.

Soobin’s gaze on the nothingness remained unwavering; Yeonjun’s one on him was the same. He wanted to reach over for him – he yearned for it – but he didn’t understand why he didn’t. It was pretty ironic, really. Soobin would always complain that no one had ever stared at him like how Ron would stare at Hermione, or how Flynn Rider would stare at Rapunzel, but whenever _Yeonjun did that,_ he had his eyes on something else. A thought crossed Yeonjun’s head: there were a bunch of kids that had openly stared at Soobin before – a look of overflowing fondness and adoration – but he failed to catch it because he was busy staring at something else instead. Something, Yeonjun figured, that was out of their leagues. It only occurred to him now, and he felt awful he almost _threw up._

Couldn’t stand the tense silence anymore, Yeonjun placed his hand over Soobin’s arm and the other flinched before he turned his head and shot him a glare – seriously for a second, playfully in the next. He smiled a guilty kind of smile and proceeded to ask, “Are you okay?”

Soobin was dumbfounded for a moment before he broke into a smile and nodded. Yeonjun noticed right away that it was slightly off than usual. The thing is, Soobin’s smile had always been too beautiful that even his fake ones were convincing. Yeonjun almost bought it.

“Why did we watch that movie?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I love it. I really do,” Yeonjun answered in all honesty, “but hey, are you… I don’t know, _sad_ or something?” he asked, a tad too cautious, a little too careful and a low chuckle escaped Soobin’s lips.

Soobin smiled once again, and it was off this time too. It didn’t reach his eyes in a way it usually did, and Yeonjun swore everything within him cracked into brokenness. Soobin pushed himself up, moved and shifted so that he would now sitting in front of the other. He placed both of his hands on Yeonjun’s shoulders. He looked at Yeonjun straight in the eyes, and Yeonjun did the same, a wave of nervousness for the unknown that was yet to come surged beneath his chest.

“You, Choi Yeonjun, my best friend in the whole wide world, need to understand that I,” Soobin said as he removed his right hand from Yeonjun’s shoulder to wave it in front of his face, “ _am a very sad person_.”

Yeonjun and Soobin stared at each other for what it felt like an eternity, breathings steady and heartbeats in sync with each other’s. Yeonjun could tell that Soobin wasn’t looking at him; he was looking _past_ him. He wasn’t sure why it hurt so much, but it really did. Yeonjun wondered whether it was supposed to hurt him, and the longer he looked at the other, the more he could see Renee in himself. It was like Renee was dwelling into him, taking away his ever so bright Choi Soobin, and making him sad as well. It was painful for Yeonjun to even breathe because he was breaking the whole time, right in front of his eyes, and he didn’t even notice. Yeonjun slowly pulled Soobin’s hands into his lap, and he glanced at his wrists. He didn’t know why he did that, but at that time, it almost felt like it was the right thing to do. At that, Soobin chuckled.

“I don’t cut, if that’s what you have in mind.”

Yeonjun sighed in relief, letting aloud his breath that he had been holding this entire time. Soobin let out another chuckle before he lifted up his hands to cup Yeonjun’s face in his hands. Yeonjun finally took notice of how huge his hands were, and how they were warmer than usual. He knew he was a late bloomer, and that he wouldn’t notice things if they weren’t directly shoved into his face, but he really wished he’d know the absolute truth that his Soobin was sad without having him to actually say it to him. Yeonjun let out another shaky breath, and Soobin smiled to him – a genuine one this time, and Yeonjun _believed_ him.

_Yeonjun believed that smile._

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, all right?”

Yeonjun managed to do a nod.

“I’m _not_ okay, but _that’s okay._ I’m figuring this out. I’m, somehow, emotionally unstable, but I’m not suicidal, so don’t you worry about it; for I am stronger than my sadness, that’s for sure. I’m just… _sad,_ and I know that for kids like us, life’s all about our dreams, visions and future, but I figured sometimes life’s about putting one foot ahead of the other, and _just that._ I’m not like you, Yeonjun. You’ve got everything figured and planned out, but I haven’t. I _don’t_ even know what I want in life, though I somehow have a glimpse of what kind of life I want to lead. I don’t believe in fairy tales, but I do believe in miracles. I have hope, and for that I know I’ll be okay, eventually.”

“Eventually?”

Soobin nodded, eyes glint with hopefulness. “Eventually,” he confirmed before he broke into a grin. “Now, cheer up! It makes me feel bad for turning you into a sad cinnamon roll.”

Yeonjun crinkled his nose at the pet name, cringing.

Soobin then pulled his hands back and let out a soft laugh. Yeonjun, however, failed to find anything that was funny in that situation. Soobin perhaps laughed after seeing Yeonjun’s disgusted expression. It was something that Yeonjun didn’t understand, how Soobin was able to switch his emotions just like that. It was like he had this invisible switch at the back of his heart, and when he wanted to switch his emotion from this to that, he’d only have to think or flick his finger or something, and TA-DAH!

“I’m sorry.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow. “For?”

Yeonjun felt a lump forming on his throat. “For not noticing that you’re sad.”

Soobin laughed again, and Yeonjun almost stopped him right then and there, but then he said, “It’s okay. You had no idea about it.”

When Soobin finally stood up to change the movie into a more uplifting one, that was when the right words finally came. Yeonjun whispered into the stuffy air, “That’s what I’m sorry for – not noticing you and your sadness. For having no idea about it.”

Soobin turned around, took his seat beside Yeonjun again – a little too close, legs tangled and fingers interlaced – and as he laughed watching their favourite movie, ‘The Goonies’, that strangely didn’t draw Yeonjun in, he thought to himself that perhaps he didn’t know Soobin at all. Perhaps he had never known him like he thought he had. He was supposed to know him more and more, day by day, but the more Soobin unveiled himself, the more he seemed to be a complete stranger to him. Yeonjun didn’t get him. It was as if the thirteen long years they had shared didn’t exist – all he could see was _distance._

Yeonjun figured that Soobin was indeed in his orbit, but they were galaxies apart.

. . .

“I had this weird dream – a super weird dream,” Yeonjun said to Soobin once they were in the kitchen, beef pepperoni pizza lying between both of them on the counter.

“What dream?”

“Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“I promise,” Soobin immediately replied, sounding ever so serious though there was a glint of playfulness in his brown hues eyes.

Yeonjun shot Soobin a dagger before he decided to continue anyway. He told the other about his dream, from A to Z of what really happened and how their favourite ‘The Mummy’ ride went missing, and how he was in Yeonjun’s dream – which made the other to go crazy by the way.

“You dreamt of me?” Soobin asked in all enthusiasm, though his point was only to tease Yeonjun, wearing that stupid and annoying grin on his face that Yeonjun flushed red.

“I know right? I don’t get it. I thought I hate nightmares,” Yeonjun retorted with a dramatic roll of the eyes and Soobin reached over to leave a painful smack on his shoulder. He yelped, and Soobin giggled softly.

Yeonjun thought that he really, really was _screwed_.

Yeonjun continued with his tale, telling Soobin how they had no clue where the ride was, and how they searched for it but it was to no avail, and how Soobin was okay with it. He told him that whenever he woke up from that dream, he’d feel sad and blue, but he left the crying part. Yeonjun decided that he would never, ever tell Soobin that.

Strangely, Soobin didn’t laugh like how Yeonjun thought he would. He thought that perhaps Soobin would laugh if he told him that the dream had somehow made him cry – once or twice – and he wondered how the other would react if he actually told him the secret. He’d probably laugh, but Yeonjun really thought that Soobin was the happiest person on earth before, and how _wrong_ was he the entire time. He figured that was where he got it wrong – to think that whenever it came to Soobin, he would never get it wrong. He made a mental note to himself to never think that way again, for the way he thought about a person wasn’t the way they actually were. There would always be more than what met the eyes.

“That’s weird,” Soobin muttered thoughtfully in between pizza bites. “And sad. I mean, if we go there again and the ride isn’t there anymore, I’ll be sad as hell. You sure I wasn’t at all sad in your dream?”

Yeonjun nodded. “100% positive. It occurred a couple times and I’ve memorized it. You were okay; I wasn’t. I swear I hated you in my dream. Perhaps the next time I have the same dream, I’ll punch you in the face to knock some senses into your head.”

Soobin shot Yeonjun a glare, reaching over the counter, leaving pizza grease on Yeonjun’s hair, something that he wished Soobin didn’t do. “That’s so not nice. I’m offended.”

“Serve you right,” Yeonjun replied, an easy laugh escaped his lips. “You should’ve not hurt me in your dream. But, hey, do you think it has some sort of meanings or something?”

Soobin shrugged, walking to the other side of the kitchen to wash his hands before he leaned against the fridge that was across the counter Yeonjun was sitting on. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I thought perhaps it might have a meaning after all, since it occurred for a few times already.”

“Spill.”

“I think it has something to do with you growing up.”

Yeonjun stared ahead at Soobin, wearing a confused expression. “What?”

“You’re _growing up_ ,” Soobin repeated, “That’s why the ride’s missing.”

Yeonjun continued staring at him, and Soobin sighed though a fond smile broke upon his lips. “You’re helpless. Listen, I think the reason why the ride is missing because you’re growing up. You’ve been exposed to the _real_ world. You’re no longer the little boy you used to be. That little, innocence bubble around you has popped. You’re growing up, and you’re leaving childhood. You’re no longer in the transition between childhood and adulthood – you’ve entered adulthood. You’re an _adult._ You follow?”

Yeonjun lightly shook his head with a sheepish smile. He wasn’t lying; he really didn’t see the correlation between the absence of the ride and him growing up. “Do you have an easier way to explain it? You’re talking in a language I can’t comprehend.”

Soobin stared at him – really stared at him – before he took a deep breath and began again. Yeonjun wondered how he had managed to bear with him all these years. Soobin sure was one hell of a patient person for keeping up with him, and he really appreciated it.

“Let me put it this way. The ride represents your childhood and innocence. When it went missing, it means that you’ve _lost_ them – your childhood and innocence. You told me that you’d try to find it, but failed. It means that though you’ve tried your hardest to gain them back, they have already slipped away. You _have_ to grow up; you have to move forward because they’re gone.”

When Soobin’s words finally dawned on him, Yeonjun felt like crying. _Goddamned dream and goddamned ride,_ Yeonjun mentally cussed, _always made me feel blue as hell._

“Save me,” Yeonjun’s voice croak and broken as he lowly mumbled, “I don’t want to grow up,” it was supposed to be a joke, and he should be laughing, but he didn’t. In fact, it only turned his eyes into a goddamned well.

Soobin’s face fell as he was only able to reach out, patting Yeonjun on the head, smiling a sad kind of smile. “I wish I could. I wish I could,” he whispered lowly as he finally lessened the gap between them both, standing between Yeonjun’s dangling legs, invading Yeonjun’s personal bubble. He didn’t mind though. “I’m sorry that I can’t save you. I’m sorry I can’t save the ride. I’m sorry I can’t save you. I can’t even save _myself_ —“

“ _Binnie, it’s okay,_ ” Yeonjun had to cut him off because he couldn’t let Soobin continue with his voice breaking like that. He couldn’t, or else he’d break down as well. However, when Soobin was obviously staring at him like that – like there was something in him that was worth staring at – Yeonjun really felt the urge to close the tiny distance between them altogether. He gulped, darting his eyes everywhere but Soobin’s inviting lips, and he managed to stammer, “Stop saying sorry. I know we all eventually have to grow up, even if we really don’t want to.”

“You remind me of Holden Caulfield from ‘The Catcher in the Rye’.”

“Holden _Who_ field?”

Soobin chuckled, and Yeonjun wished he wouldn’t hear how loud his heart was thumping against his chest.

“Caulfield. He’s just a boy like you. Afraid of growing up, losing innocence and all. Except that he’s famous and you’re not.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes as he tried to return a proper comeback because it was hard for him when Soobin was standing way too close. “If he’s famous, I would’ve known him.”

“It’s not my fault that you don’t read what I read,” Soobin retorted back, booping Yeonjun’s small nose affectionately, and Yeonjun really, really _wanted to kiss him –_ to kiss his brokenness and sadness away but he wasn’t sure if he was powerful to defeat such strong emotions that had resided within the boy he had grown to love. Yeonjun, somehow, felt small and insecure.

“Get yourself a copy from my shelf, and read,” Soobin said.

“I don’t read. At least not what you read,” Yeonjun shot the other with the truth. The only books they shared a common interest with was the Harry Potter series. Other than that, Soobin read his, and Yeonjun read his, which mostly consisted of graphic novels from Marvels, while Soobin’s was everything there was in the history of literature. Soobin read everything Yeonjun thought he was crazy.

“Well, you should.”

Soobin then brought the empty pizza box to the trashcan to dispose it before he walked to the sink to wash their glasses. Yeonjun couldn’t help staring at Soobin’s back view, and he didn’t know if it was just him, but Soobin’s shoulders really slumped and hunched forward as if he was carrying the weight of the world within him. He figured it must have something to do with him knowing that Soobin was sad and all.

It was kind of crazy to Yeonjun, how the way you looked at someone changed after one revelation – how your perspective on someone changed after a part of them was revealed. Some people, they just said some little things, one sentence, and it changed the way you looked at them in an instant. He wished he could look at Soobin just the same, but he couldn’t. Soobin wasn’t ‘just sad’, and even though he told him that he would be okay eventually, there was always a lapse of time until eventually finally took place. It might be instant; it might take an eternity. It was always the latter though. Yeonjun figured that life could be really unfair at times.

As Soobin dragged Yeonjun upstairs to his room by the hand, succeeding in convincing him to sleep over and how Soobin was quick to curl himself against Yeonjun’s chest (Soobin preferred to be the little spoon though he was now a few centimetres taller than the other), Yeonjun perhaps had figured a teeny tiny part of Soobin. Probably the reason why Soobin was okay in his dream was that he himself had grown up. Yeonjun thought that despite them being the same age, Soobin was a lot mature than he was. He grew up ages ago now that Yeonjun really thought about it.

Soobin might be way too clumsy for his own good, finding that his pretty face didn’t get him anywhere, struggling with his long limbs that were useless because he couldn’t do athletic shit, and he might not be bookish smart, but Soobin was still wonderful in his own way. He was kind – too kind – and he had a smile that could end war and cure cancer, and he was very thoughtful and a good listener. He was always the sane one, and he would keep Yeonjun right on track. He grew up, and in a way, _helped_ Yeonjun to grow up, too.

Some people only grew older; they didn’t grow up.

“I’ll read the book,” Yeonjun whispered against Soobin’s neck, inhaling his minty and strawberry scent, arm lazily draping over his torso.

“That’s great! You’ll love it, I promise,” Yeonjun could sense the smile in Soobin’s sleepy voice. It made him smile too.

“Promise me another thing,” Yeonjun said as his eyes slowly fluttered shut; sleepiness had finally kicked in after a short while.

“Hm.”

“Never hide _anything_ from me again.”

A silence, before a quiet _I promise_ followed after.

It didn’t take long for Yeonjun to figure that other than being a beautiful human being, Soobin was also a _beautiful liar_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for plot purposes, soobin and yeonjun are of the same age. and scream at me juseyo! hihi


	3. Chapter 3

A week before Choi Yeonjun’s 18th summer ended, he received three offer letters – two of them were from universities abroad, or UK specifically, and one from a local university that was located in Seoul. He was offered to major in Medicine, Biochemistry and Psychology – quite mainstream fields, that he himself was shocked when he read all the letters. His results were good, but there were more that were better than he did, and to have not one, but three offers from prestigious universities shocked him – in a good way. It made the whole thing amazing more than it actually was because he really didn’t put too much expectation in any of his universities applications. It was all just trials and errors.

Yeonjun then ran out of his house, skipping way too happily after having a full five minutes session of being squished, hugged and kissed by his parents, and went straight to Choi Soobin’s. The said boy was already waiting for him by the porch of his house, smiling a blinding kind of smile he could defeat the sun, his arms wide opened. Within seconds, Yeonjun found himself settling in Soobin’s warmth, and he broke into a grin once he felt the latter’s lips curved upward against his neck.

Soobin muttered lowly onto Yeonjun’s skin, “I’ve heard. Congratulations.”

Yeonjun pulled away, beaming to the other. “Thank you!”

“I guess it’s time for a celebration then.”

. . .

The two boys had their legs dangling on the edge of the shabby rooftop in one corner; two medium tubs of ice cream and a few popsicles were placed between both of them, not minding the flaming sun that was high up in the heavenly blue sky overhead. It was one hell of a sunny summer – the heat was unbearable – but thank God for ice cream, though it seemed as if they were in a race against the humid air, trying to finish off the contents of the tubs before they completely, pathetically melted out of the heat. For a moment, it was just that – them munching on the cold dessert that they got from a small ice cream parlour and it was all on Soobin as a congratulation gift to the other, basking under the sun, sharing an infinite kind of silence.

It was simple; it was innocent, but Soobin’s mere presence had made everything to be more extravagant than what it really was.

Yeonjun finished his last scoop of mint choco-chip ice cream before he reached for a honeydew-flavoured popsicles. For some strange reasons, he really enjoyed the huge contrast between the summery weather and frozen dessert in his mouth. It was as if he was evaporating into the atmosphere but was saved time and time again – staying solid – due to the icy intakes. It didn’t make sense, he thought to himself, but honestly, at the age of 18, almost nothing made sense. It was a confusing phase. It was like nothing was wrong, but nothing was right either. He remembered thinking, _it’s either that I survive, or I don’t._

“I can’t believe you’re going in a few more weeks,” Soobin broke the silence, not even finishing his tub of vanilla ice cream and setting it aside on the dirty concrete. Yeonjun raised an eyebrow at the act, for the other had never let the dessert unfinished before. “We really are growing up, aren’t we?”

“You’re leaving too, right?” Yeonjun asked, finally realising how Soobin was silent on his own fortune. “Which university are you getting in?”

Soobin tilted his head to the side, staring straight at Yeonjun in the eyes as he chuckled. “I’m _not_ getting into any university. In fact, I didn’t apply for any,” he shook his head; a sorrow kind of smile embraced his lips. “I did receive a couple offers, though, but I don’t think I’m going – scratch that, _I’m not going._ ” Soobin said, sounding ever so serious as if it was final.

It really was.

Yeonjun _tried_ hard in controlling his face from showing any signs that he was perplexed, but he could tell that Soobin knew he was indeed aghast with the revelation. It wasn’t because of the fact that Soobin wasn’t applying; it was because he _didn’t_ know the other wasn’t applying. Soobin didn’t question his expression though. Instead, he reached over and flattened the tiny wrinkles that formed between Yeonjun’s brows.

“Why didn’t you?” Yeonjun asked almost immediately, his eyes widened. “Hold on, didn’t we apply together? I remember when the school counsellors had us filled in the forms and shit; we sent the forms and applications together, right? I even remember what your choices were. Now you’re telling me you’re not going— _no, you weren’t even applying?_ ”

“I know, I know. I remember,” Soobin confirmed Yeonjun’s question. “However, it’s not something that I want to do anymore,” at that, his eyes turned pitifully sad Yeonjun thought he was on the brink of crying. “I don’t know honestly, but I’m not going.”

Yeonjun breathes, inhaling the air that felt too stuffy out of a sudden into his lungs. He looked at Soobin, and he felt something – anger and betrayal – bubbling within his chest. “Binnie, why don’t you tell me anything anymore?” he asked, failing to hide the disappointment from clearly lacing his voice. “Am I not your friend? I didn’t even know you’re sad. I didn’t even know you weren’t applying for universities. I don’t know _what’s going on with you_ anymore. Do you still consider me as your friend? Be honest.”

Yeonjun wondered if his honeydew popsicles had turned bitter, or was it just him.

Soobin furiously shook his head, waving his arms in front of him, signalling a quiet noisy ‘no’ to Yeonjun’s question. “Of course you are. You are my best friend; the one and only, the best I’ve ever had,” he told in all honesty, his eyes glistened against the sunny sky. Yeonjun found the very truth in those eyes that looked like honey; a wave of relief washed him over because there was still a part of Soobin that _hadn’t_ changed, that he was still his best friend. It wasn’t much, but there was still something, and Yeonjun didn’t mind holding on to _that_.

Soobin continued, voice warm and gentle, unlike all the storms he was letting out. “I’m truly sorry for not telling you, but I just didn’t want you to be bothered by my decision. You’ve got a future ahead of you, Jun, and I don’t want you to look back because this pathetic best friend of yours decided to stop in his track for a while. Don’t you think I’ve been holding you back for a while now?”

Yeonjun shot Soobin a look. “You’re not pathetic; you’re not holding me back. Don’t say that,” Soobin matched Yeonjun’s expression, returning a look that said _come on, let’s be real here, I am pathetic_ but honestly, he had never thought of him that way. He could never – he _would never._ Hence, he shook his head no. “You’re not pathetic. You’re just not going to college. You’re taking a break. How’s that pathetic?”

“That’s not all,” Soobin replied in a heartbeat. “I have no goddamn clue on what to do with my life. I’m 18; I should’ve known. I don’t. All 18-year-old knows what they want to do; they have it all figured out—who they want to be, what they want to do, where they want to go—but I don’t. I’m not going anywhere because I’m the dumbest person to ever exist.”

Yeonjun, at that moment, somehow ultimately acknowledged the complications of falling for a _lost_ boy.

“You’re not the only one who haven’t figured out things, Bin,” Yeonjun softly said, his eyes turned just as soft. “You’re not the dumbest person to ever exist. You’re _everything_ , but that. In fact, I think you’re brilliant,” the last word came out low, as if he didn’t want the boy to hear, but in the quietness, it was heard – loud and clear. “You’re brilliant, really, and I’m not lying.”

Soobin couldn’t help breaking into a smile at that. His lips were pulled back, slowly, slowly and all at once, eyes turning crescents as his dimples popped. Yeonjun stared at him in silence – obviously and openly admiring God’s work of art – and he couldn’t help but wonder that perhaps the boy had been hiding behind a façade all this time was because it was _easier_ that way. It was easier hiding than explaining, though Yeonjun would go all the way in if it meant he could drown himself in all of Soobin.

“You won’t think low of me simply because I don’t and won’t go to college, will you?”

Again, Yeonjun shook his head. “Of course I won’t,” and he meant it. He didn’t look up to a lot of people, only his parents, and Soobin. He knew that a fact as lame as not attending a university wouldn’t change his whole perspective on the other. “What did your parents say though?”

Soobin pursed his lips before he answered, a quiet, “they don’t know yet.”

Yeonjun nodded in acknowledgment, deciding not to push that any further, as he offered a comforting smile. “What are you going to do then?”

Soobin shrugged lazily, swinging his legs casually, eyes fixated on the sky that had gradually turned soft gold (just when Yeonjun thought Soobin couldn’t be even more ethereal, the scene before him unfolded). “I don’t really know.”

“Come on,” Yeonjun nudged him on his side. “There must be something like you _really_ want to do.”

“Like a dream?”

“Like a dream.”

Soobin pondered on the question, chewing on his lower lip as he did so, fingers drumming his knees in a consistent rhythm. “I want to travel the world. I want to write. I also want to help all the stray cats I find when I travel. I have this dream of opening a stray cats foundation, or something in the lines of that, and I know it sounds ridiculous but—“

“What?” Yeonjun never knew what Soobin was going to say because he had cut him off. “No, no. It’s not. It’s not ridiculous. I think it’s wonderful, really. What does the foundation do?”

Yeonjun thought – _believed_ – that he was hallucinating, but he could’ve sworn that Soobin’s eyes lit up ever so brilliantly at that question. It was as if he was in a tunnel for so long – engulfed by the deadly, bleak darkness – and he hadn’t seen the light for a while, but finally had a glimpse of the sun. It was a mixture of relief, and _happiness_ , perhaps. It warmed Yeonjun’s inside in every way there was, and he remembered wishing to the highest heaven that Soobin would feel that way for the rest of his life.

“I haven’t thought that far, honestly, because I figured none would be interested enough to ask follow-up questions,” Soobin answered, a soft laugh accompanied his sentence though it sounded so sad to Yeonjun’s ears. “I don’t know, but I think we’re just going to take in all the stray cats, provide them shelters, treat them and make them smell good. Then, once we're done giving love to all the stray cats our country ever has, we'll travel to places and take more stray cats and take care of them. We'll continue doing that until there's no stray cats left. People can adopt the cats, if they want to, but they have to sign like 44 pieces of agreement so that I can sue them or make them rot in hell if anything happens to the cats."

“44?!” Yeonjun gasped, eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"Yeah. And I'll make them to go through all the terms and conditions because most people usually skip that part, and they have to read them in front of me," Soobin laughed, a genuine one this time, and then he whispered softly, "They don't have to pay, of course, because we take the cats without paying, too, right? That'd be so wonderful, wouldn't it?"

Yeonjun stared at the other once again, ever so softly and tenderly, his fondness and adoration for Soobin multiplied tenfold that evening. He reached over as a gust of wind blew by, sifting his fingers into Soobin’s lock gently. “That’d be wonderful, yes. I can see that – you traveling, writing, being the backbone of your stray cats foundation. I can see you doing all that. Promise me you’ll give me your books with your signatures in it, and I would like adopt a few cats, too.”

Soobin laughed, and he didn’t look so sad anymore – his eyes told Yeonjun that. Yeonjun felt like he had finally reached the surface after being drowned for a while. He wondered if Soobin felt the same. He hoped he did. He really hoped he did, because he was there for him, _for all of him_.

“I’m fine with the cats, but books? You don’t read what I read, and for that I’m sure you won’t read what I write.”

Yeonjun tugged quite strongly to Soobin’s hair as a response. “That’s an insult to our friendship! Of course I’ll read whatever you write, Binnie. For real.”

Soobin fully turned to his side then, completely facing Yeonjun this time, leaning comfortable into Yeonjun’s palm that was now at the side of his cheek. Yeonjun thought he could do that forever – holding him like that, beneath the blanket of gold that had turned into a hint of orange and red. It wasn’t much, but it was _enough._

Soobin looked at Yeonjun, observing his face in silence, and Yeonjun felt nervous. He shifted uncomfortably under Soobin’s gaze though he braved himself to stare at his own reflection in Soobin’s coffee-coloured eyes. Yeonjun saw himself, along with the rainbows that was reflected from the sky in his eyes, and they were beautiful, and he wondered whether Soobin liked what he was seeing too.

“But, Bin, how come I didn’t know that you didn’t apply for any of the university? I really remember us submitting the forms to the career counselling unit together,” Yeonjun asked as he lowered his hand from Soobin’s cheek and held his hand instead.

“Hm, well… the counsellor called me in a few days after we submitted the forms. Remember that one break when I couldn’t make it to lunch?” When Yeonjun nodded, Soobin continued on his tale. “She called me in because she found that my handwriting looked rather _gloomy_ and all, and she wanted to make sure that I was all right. I told her I was, but I kind of admitted that whatever it was in my forms, it was all lies. She asked me what’s the truth then, and what I want to do if I don’t plan to further my study, and I told her what I told you. It got bad from there.”

“What happened?”

“She told me that I should be _realistic._ It doesn’t make sense, really. Just because it’s not realistic enough for her, doesn’t mean it’s not realistic enough _for me._ She told me that I should grow up, and be, I don’t know, _real_ , I guess? But, that’s very vague, isn’t it? _What_ _does real even mean?_ I thought your dreams should only be realistic to you, and not anybody else. After that, I literally snapped, and I think I told her that it’s counsellors like her that makes me despised counsellors so bad. She was _mad,_ and she asked me to leave. I left with my forms, and she never called me in again after that.”

“Binnie…” Yeonjun trailed off, eyes glassy, voice breaking. “God, that’s awful.”

“Promise me; if you’re going to major in psychology, which I think you would because that’s your interest, and you gain your degree and you can officially call yourself a psychologist or a counsellor or whatever, do _listen_ to what your patients say. Like a fact and only that – no judgment. I mean, of course you are paid to listen to them, but you have to like, _really_ listen to them. Don’t tell them to grow up and be realistic just because for a moment there, what they really want to do is run away, because that’s what _realistic_ to them at _that_ moment. People grow up when it’s time for them to grow up. Don’t kill somebody’s dream just because you have a title before your name. You can’t do that. That’s just… cruel.”

Yeonjun nodded, and he made sure Soobin see it. “I promise.” Truth to be told, once he finished telling him that, Yeonjun didn’t feel like becoming a person of that field anymore. He was afraid he’d become one like the school counsellor. “Do you think I’d really become like the counsellor?”

Soobin chuckled at Yeonjun’s question. “I don’t think so. I think you’d be a good one. That's why you're my best friend, my personal unauthorized psychologist. I don't feel tense when I'm with you, nor afraid. I don’t feel judged. If anything, I feel understood. You're the kind of person who listens, and that is a rare trait nowadays. You don't think my dreams are ridiculous, and to have a person who doesn't think your dreams aren't ridiculous is indeed, a blessing. You'd be a good psychologist, I'm sure."

Yeonjun let out a relief kind of smile, though he couldn’t help feeling sad and nostalgic in a split second. “I don’t feel like going anymore. You won’t be _there_ ,” and it was the truth. There was relief when he thought Soobin would be leaving too, though they might not be in the same place, but now that Soobin was staying, _how could he do the leaving_?

Soobin interlaced their fingers together, running his thumb over the knuckle of Yeonjun’s index finger. "You'll be okay. With or without me. You'll be back after four years, and during those four years, it's not like we're not going to see each other. I'll visit. Or you can come back here during semester break or Christmas or whenever _you_ feel like it. I'm not going anywhere. You'll be all right."

Yeonjun thought he was being emotional and all, but he really wished that the other would stop telling him that he would be all right on his own. Logically, it was the _right_ thing to say, but he really _didn’t_ want to be all right by himself, without a Choi Soobin by his side. He was terrified. However, Yeonjun wasn’t scared of the fact of having to survive four years of struggles alone; he was scared of having to survive four years of struggles alone without Soobin, and realising that he was _okay_ with it. Because that would mean that Choi Yeonjun didn’t need Choi Soobin anymore. He didn’t want _that_.

"Do you remember when our homeroom teacher asked our class what do we want to be, and mostly the kids said they want to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or an engineer? Do you remember that?"

Yeonjun nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"Do you think it was coincidental that they all want the same job? I mean, do them all really want to be a doctor? Or is it what their parents actually want?"

Yeonjun didn’t have the answer to that question, for he had parents that said _do whatever you want to do, whatever that makes you happy_ and actually meant it, so he remained silent. Soobin didn’t push the topic even further; hence, they talked about anything and everything else – much lighter conversations – because they had been worrying too much over something that hadn’t happened yet. They talked until the sun completely set, until it was no longer seen behind the mountains, until whatever that was left was darkness in Soobin’s eyes.

Soobin said the sunset was beautiful, and Yeonjun really wanted to tell that Soobin was more beautiful than the sunset, and so he did. Soobin was dumbfounded, his jaw dropped that Yeonjun had to push it back up, and he took too long to respond that Yeonjun thought he screwed up the moment, but then he broke into a smile, and Yeonjun concluded that he was indeed, more beautiful than the sunset.

Yeonjun hoped Soobin believed him, for he wasn't lying in any way.

. . .

Yeonjun was about to _try_ to read ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ that he had borrowed from Soobin a couple weeks ago when his phone beeped. He set the book aside and took his phone from the nightstand. It was a notification from Instagram.

 **weeklydoseofsoobin** tagged you in a post.

Yeonjun wasn’t exactly an active user of Instagram. In fact, he was there only because of Soobin. It was also Soobin who created an account for him, setting _konstellations_ as his username. Soobin thought that constellations looked more beautiful with a _k_ instead of _c,_ and Yeonjun reminded him very much of the stars that he really had to set his username up like that. Yeonjun remembered Soobin telling him that he was beautiful like the constellations – beautiful but not knowing they were beautiful.

Yeonjun clicked on the notification, and seconds later, a picture of them together appeared on the screen. It was taken when they were on the rooftop, facing the sunset – Yeonjun had his head leaned against Soobin’s, eyes closed, his content smile matched Soobin’s own one. He read the caption:

 **weeklydoseofsoobin** with my other, better half. I’m going to miss you lots.

That night, Yeonjun went to sleep wondering if there was any way that could - _would_ \- make leaving _easier_.

. . .

Yeonjun woke up the very next day with a racing heart under his chest. He was drenched in sweat as if he was running a marathon in his sleep, beads of sweats formed on his forehead and philtrum, his hands and feet cold. He wondered if he had a nightmare, and after pondering for a couple seconds, he shook his head no – no sad dreams, no nightmares, no strange dreams. He then jumped from his bed and went downstairs, running his way over to Soobin’s, not even bothering to brush his teeth and wash up because he _needed_ his comfort boy now. He rang the doorbell; the door was opened by Mrs. Choi, and he greeted her rather quickly before he made his way up to Soobin’s room.

The door was shut tight, which was weird because he had always left his door slightly opened in case Yeonjun would come barging in, which happened like most of the time.

Yeonjun knocked thrice – an act that was so strange and unfamiliar – and after having no response, he slowly turned the doorknob and peeked inside through the small space.

It was empty.

“Binnie, are you in there?” Yeonjun asked, “I’m coming in.”

It was silent.

Raising an eyebrow, Yeonjun pushed the door wider and went in, not noticing the sudden, fast beating of his heart, for he was totally focused on what in sight. It gave Yeonjun a vibe he’d never felt before and fear shot up into the fibre of his being. Soobin wasn’t in there – not even in the bathroom. It was eerily quiet, though it was a deafening kind of silence, and it was peculiarly _neat –_ as if no one lived in there.

He left the room, and went to check the whole house, and he was still nowhere to be found. He thought that perhaps Soobin was playing hide and seek, for if he wasn’t home, Mrs. Choi would’ve told him so. Yeonjun couldn’t help freaking out though he didn’t want to, trying to be as subtle as possible, and once he returned to Soobin’s room again, that was when he let his anxiousness took over.

Yeonjun was shaking as he was drawn to the closet, and it got worse by seconds, but he pulled the door open anyway.

His attention should be on Soobin’s more-than-half missing clothes, but then another copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ (Soobin had around 20 copies of that book; all were in different versions) fell to his feet from nowhere that he had to pick it up. It was Soobin’s favourite copy, and for that he had never read that copy because he didn’t want to disgrace it with his hands. With shaky hands and equally shaky breath, Yeonjun turned the page, and found a letter.

_To you._

He unfolded the letter, and read, and read, and read, and read, until he couldn’t.

Choi Yeonjun was 18, and he had never had his first cigarette nor first kiss, and he knew that everyone would have only one chance to love someone with their hearts still whole, but he swore his heart broke into millions of pieces before he could even properly love someone. It hurt so bad, and he thought that he was hallucinating, but he really could hear the cracking sound coming from his inside – his _heart._

Soobin’s words kept playing in his mind like a goddamned broken record, and after each crack, he _died_ a little more than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoy the read! do let me know what you think here or on twt @ateezimnida <3


	4. the beginning of a grey reality

_present days & all the days that followed_

Everything happens so fast before Yeonjun’s eyes after that – like a flash of a camera, quick and gone by the time you’re looking – it barely makes sense to his system. He has told Soobin’s parents what actually happened – but not before making sure he didn’t leave any signs that he was bawling his heart out in their son’s room – and he also told them not to worry and freak out because that’s what Soobin really wanted, and it took them days to finally accept the situation. Yeonjun tells the same thing to his parents, and this time he cries, and after he’s _okay_ (not really, but he’s adapting) with everything, he does some shopping with his parents during the first week of autumn, and by the time he realises it, he’s already in Scotland – enrolling himself into the University of Aberdeen.

His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Choi, stay in Scotland for almost a week to help him settling in. His dad took a leave from his work, which made Yeonjun feel bad as hell anyway – his boss even gave Yeonjun some pocket money, and by some, it’s a lot. Yeonjun thinks he’s quite lucky. When his parents are about to leave the foreign land, he tries his best not to cry. Dad doesn’t cry though his eyes are red and glassy, but mom creates a chaos in the middle of the airport. She cries aloud, and while he finds it quite embarrassing, he almost cries too. He has never been apart from his parents before, and this marks the first time, and it’s understandable why the goodbye isn’t easy. It’s hard not to cry when he sees his mom being a crying mess, choking on her own salty tears, but Yeonjun figures that he needs to be strong for them now – he can’t appear weak, at least not in front of people who have given him everything he has ever needed and wanted.

“It’s not a goodbye, mom,” Yeonjun says, holding back the tears behind his eyes and smiles. “It’s a see you later.”

Days go on, rather perfectly, he can say. He carries himself well. Everything is okay. The university is nice; the classes are fun; the food suits his taste buds; the library is huge and has many books compared to his and Soobin’s combined; and definitely, there are a lot of nice people. Yeonjun has three housemates in his boarding house near campus: Choi Beomgyu, Kang Taehyun and Kai Kamal Huening (to which he insists to call him Kai, though Taehyun has the tendency to call him Kamal on most days).

They meet during the first Korean Students Society meeting that semester (though Kai is a Korean-American that lives in Liverpool), being put together in a group for ice-breaking session. Though initially he had the unit all to himself, when the three boys spill that they haven’t found a place to stay for the rest of their studies just yet, Yeonjun has kindly offered them his place to stay. Granted, he has another extra room, and the space is too huge for him to live by himself, too. They agree, and move in the same evening, and Yeonjun has his room shared with Taehyun.

Yeonjun isn’t exactly fond of people, and he isn’t the biggest extrovert there is, but he tolerates (read: opens up to) the three boys a little too quickly, a tad too well than usual that it even surprises himself. Beomgyu is loud, bubbly (he’s too _happy_ all the time Yeonjun thinks it doesn’t make sense) and he’s some sort of a prankster. Taehyun is reserved and observant but warm (Yeonjun knows he’s not supposed to play favourite, but Taehyun’s his). Meanwhile, Kai is bright and cheerful and he gives off a vibe that Yeonjun feels like protecting him at all costs, like a younger brother he never had. Their personalities, though it seems clashed on the surface, actually create a harmonious dynamics between them, and they balance each other out. Who would’ve known that the first time he’s on his own, on a land far away from home, he gains not one, but three boys he can call his friends.

Yeonjun thinks perhaps he really _is_ lucky after all.

Beomgyu, Yeonjun learns, is majoring in Anthropology and Archaeology; Kai in Anthropology and Geography and those two usually share the same schedules, while Taehyun majors in Chemical Engineering. Yeonjun wants to ask Taehyun whether if it was really his choice to major in that programme (his conversation with Soobin about dreams and occupations pops up in his mind sometimes when he looks at the red-haired boy), but in the end, he finds himself having the question stuck at the back of his throat. It only remains as a question that he hasn’t had the answer just yet.

One night during the first week since they started living together, as they have dinner in the living room (Yeonjun and Taehyun on the couch while the other two take the floor, munching while watching a football match between Arsenal and Liverpool) Taehyun asks Yeonjun what his major is. All the boys have already stared at him, anticipating his answer because after Soobin, Yeonjun has turned to be more reserved than what he initially was.

Yeonjun looks up from his beef lasagna, hesitates, before he answers.

A soft, “English and Creative Writing.”

. . .

Soobin left – a fact that Yeonjun has to swallow time and time again, and it’s too bitter to his liking, but as the time passes by, he learns to adapt to the taste. It was all explained in the letter, though he never told him where he was going, and that Yeonjun shouldn’t worry at all about him, for he’s going to be okay. Soobin, in one part of the letter, made a joke and claimed that he’s a grown up boy and that he’s going to test his survival skills, and that he’s going to be back home as soon as possible. Yeonjun figures it’s a lie, for it has been three and a half months since then, and he still hasn’t heard anything from the boy.

Yeonjun waits every day, of course, for a call, or a text. Perhaps a mention in Soobin’s weekly Instagram post. Perhaps an appearance in front of his unit here in Scotland. None of that happens – they only remain as Choi Yeonjun’s wishful thinking. Throughout all the days without Choi Soobin, Yeonjun learns again the hard way to adapt to his absence, forcing himself to focus on what is and not what was or what could be, and he has stopped reaching out to Soobin altogether. His thousands of calls and texts that he had initiated to the other remained unanswered, and Yeonjun thinks perhaps that Soobin has moved on from everything – whatever it was, whatever they were – in the little town he left behind, and he is included, too. However, there isn’t any day that he goes through without thinking of the missing boy, and he misses him every day. He figures that it’s not a situation in which he didn’t know what he had until it’s – _he’s_ – gone; it’s that he knew exactly what he had, only that he had never thought he’d lose _him_.

It hurts, still hurting and throbbing, but Yeonjun’s _okay_.

At least, he likes to think he is. It’s _easier_ that way – pretending, that is. Hence, he holds his head up, moves on with his life, flowing accordingly to where his feet take him, as simple as that, because whatever it is, life goes on – with, or without Choi Soobin. _Unfortunately_. His life still resolves around Soobin, _Soobin_ , _Soobin_ despite everything that had happened and is happening though Soobin’s no longer around, and he’s _okay_ because he thinks losing himself is better than losing Choi Soobin altogether and completely. He doesn’t mind _dying_ if it meant Soobin is alive, even in memory.

Yeonjun also has been quite active on Instagram, logging into his social media every single night before he sleeps just so he can see what Soobin is up to, to know that he’s safe and sound, wherever he is. Soobin still posts weekly, but he updates his story at least once a day, and though he has the urge to reply to them, Soobin has disabled the message replies feature, and he barely replies to comments under his posts. His followers increased a lot, for Soobin has also started to _write_ – prose, poetry, and sometimes, just _life updates._ Yeonjun figures that Soobin is honest in his writing – no matter how dark and scary his mind is as he lets it pour – and people _like_ that – his naked and raw honesty. Soobin’s relatable in many ways, and people find comfort in his words as whatever he decides to write and share, his writings _let_ people know that they aren’t alone – that he’s feeling the same way too, and Yeonjun figures perhaps Soobin has started to live for his dreams as well.

Soobin also goes to nice places. Places that Yeonjun has never been. Yeonjun wonders where he gets all the money, because plane tickets aren’t cheap, but perhaps Soobin really does receive a lot from his parents and siblings, and he also has savings from when he did a part-time job in summer and winter break the previous year. Soobin has also settled into a place because he has shared a picture of his nametag, and judging on the frequent story updates on coffees and pastries and books, Yeonjun figures that Soobin is working in a book café or some sort, though he doesn’t know where exactly. That answers Yeonjun’s one of many questions as well.

Yeonjun is now openly and undeniably staring at Soobin’s latest post – a picture of him smiling in front a unique and modern-looking building, in which Yeonjun later learns that it takes the shape of the skeleton of a whale – when Beomgyu pops behind him.

“I know this place – it’s Prince Philip Science Museum! I went there last spring!” Beomgyu exclaims almost too excitedly. “Who is he? He’s pretty. Do you like him? Is he your friend?”

Beomgyu’s loud, and he asks too many questions at once Yeonjun can feel a headache weighs on him almost immediately. Still, he answers.

“He’s Soobin – Choi Soobin – my best friend. Of course I like him,” Yeonjun deadpans, though the look in Beomgyu’s eyes shows that he _didn’t_ mean it that way. He ignores him anyway, and continues, “Where is this place again?”

“It’s in Spain – Valencia, specifically,” Beomgyu replies, still shooting Yeonjun that look – a look as if he knows that something’s up, that he knows Yeonjun’s carrying a deadly secret about a boy named Choi Soobin within him, to which Yeonjun ignores completely. Beomgyu then breaks into a knowing smile. His eyes turn caramelly soft on Yeonjun, as if he would break if he stared hard enough.

Yeonjun shifts his gaze back to his phone because the way Beomgyu is looking at him makes him quite uncomfortable. Beomgyu, though he’s loud all the time (Yeonjun calls him a walking chatterbox), has this ability to make you to talk even when you don’t feel like talking. He listens intently, and he’s capable to make you feel as if you’re some sort of an extraordinary person with a very interesting life. He reads people well, too, and for that sole reason, Yeonjun can’t bear to look at him for longer than three seconds, because he’s not ready to be _found_ yet. He doesn’t want him to know that the person he’s seeing now is entirely made up of Choi Soobin, that the only thing that belongs to him is his _name_.

“Yeonjun,” Beomgyu calls out ever so softly, completely different from how he usually sounds. “May I know why you took Creative Writing programme?”

Yeonjun shrugs, doesn’t give it a much thought. “I want to write.” He doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not – whichever it is, he doesn’t mind. It doesn’t matter. The course is bearable and Yeonjun’s flexible.

From his peripheral vision, he can see the nod Beomgyu does. “I see. I read your assignment the other day – the short story one – and I was impressed. Say, have you had your heart broken or something in the lines of that?”

Yeonjun is dumbfounded – he’s struggling to say no – but his mistake is looking up to Beomgyu, because he’s still staring and his ability is very much in action, and before Yeonjun can stop himself, he mumbles a low _yes._

Beomgyu flicks his fingers at the answer, eyes brighten up as if he’s happy to discover a tiny part of Yeonjun, and the other rolls his eyes. “No wonder you’re pretty poetic and artistic.”

“How’s that related?”

“Only sad people write, and you’re poetic and artistic once you have your heart broken.”

Yeonjun’s jaw drops. “What—I’m _not_ sad,” he denies almost immediately, a little high than his usual tone. He’s telling the truth – he isn’t sad. He doesn’t cry or anything – the last time he did was three and a half months ago, _that_ one summer afternoon and just that – and he doesn’t lock himself in the bathroom and cry when the water from the shower hits his face, and he doesn’t have problems watching and listening to sad movies and songs. He definitely didn’t run away from home and making everyone worried as hell. He’s perfectly fine. He’s alive, breathing – he’s _okay_. “I’m not sad, and I’m not heartbroken.”

Beomgyu lets out a chuckle, and Yeonjun feels angry. He can feel the anger bubbling just beneath his chest, waiting for the time to explode, as he shoots a glare to the boy. They’ve only known each other for what, almost three months now, so why is Beomgyu acting as if he _knows_ him through and through? Beomgyu doesn’t know him, and he most definitely doesn’t know what he was and is going through, so it’s unfair now that he acts as if he knows everything about him. He purses his lips, the glare is still evident in his eyes, but the look Beomgyu has on him remains unwavering.

“You’re too focused on building up words, or _lies,_ on your tongue that you forget your eyes speak as well,” Beomgyu mutters (Yeonjun thinks the statement is ridiculous by the way), “Is it because of him?”

Yeonjun doesn’t have to ask to know who Beomgyu meant by him. He understands the question and he understands who he meant. Yeonjun braves himself to look at Beomgyu in the eyes, and asks, “What does my eyes say this time?”

Beomgyu laughs, punching Yeonjun on the shoulder playfully at the remark, rolling his eyes. “ _Yes_ ,” he confirms. “Yes, you are heartbroken, and that’s because of him. Your eyes are screaming though; they’re not just _saying.”_

Yeonjun doesn’t get it, of course, for he doesn’t get a lot of things. However, he thinks what Beomgyu said is brokenly beautiful and all, so he includes that in one of his writings, and credits it to him. His course mates give it a read, and they say that it’s poetic and artistic as well, and Yeonjun figures that perhaps Beomgyu must have had his heart broken, too, though he doesn’t seem to be like one. He seems fine, and happy, and he seems to be like one of those countable, lucky people who still has that one chance to love somebody with his heart still whole. Yeonjun stops assuming, however, because he knows better now.

Anyway, ever since Yeonjun’s tiny confession, he keeps finding Beomgyu singing to _i hate u, i love u_ by Olivia O’Brien feat Gnash, and once he gets to the _friends can break your heart too_ part, he sings the line obviously and painfully loud that it booms throughout the whole house. Yeonjun finds it annoying, really, because he knows that the boy is teasing him, and his face flushed every time. Taehyun, who can’t stand the sound pollution one day, decides to shove a spoonful of extra spicy sriracha sauce that he uses in preparing their lunch that afternoon into Beomgyu’s mouth he’s forced to shut up in an instant. Yeonjun is grateful for Taehyun, because if he didn’t do what he did, Yeonjun would’ve laid his hands on Beomgyu himself.

It’s also the day that Yeonjun finds out that perhaps opening up to some people, sometimes, causes no harm at all. The teasing is annoying, but underneath, he can’t deny that there’s something warm blooming, too. Beomgyu _cares,_ he knows and he’s glad that he accepted his confession just as a mere fact – not inherently good or bad, without judgment nor blame. Yeonjun looks at Beomgyu and his pained expression, face sweating and red from the spiciness, and he _laughs._ For the first time since he got there, since he knew the three boys, and it’s a big deal because Soobin’s absence causes his laughs to be absent, too. Yeonjun doesn’t – _can’t_ – find any reason to laugh anymore after Choi Soobin, until the three boys happened.

Hence, when he laughs aloud that day, genuine and lovely, Taehyun drops the spatula he’s using to stir the dipping sauce he’s making on the stove. Beomgyu stops gurgling his mouth at the sink, to which he accidentally swallows whole the tap water. Kai, who’s sitting silently at the dining table, stops marking the world map with his red marker to stare wide-eyed at him. Yeonjun’s laugh fades, though a soft smile still embraces his lips, and he rubs his temple awkwardly.

“Just pretend you all heard nothing.”

Taehyun’s the first one to snap from his trance. “If you say so.”

Kai’s eyes turn soft at him before he continues with his project. “You should laugh more often. You have a nice laugh.”

“Not me, dude, I’m going to—“

Yeonjun never finds out what Beomgyu was going to say because Taehyun has whacked him with the spatula, leaving red stain on his white shirt, and Beomgyu lets out the most childish whine ever, cussing out the red-haired boy. Yeonjun laughs once more, and they don’t act like it’s a hell of a strange phenomenon this time, and for that, Yeonjun is grateful. He really is.

He still is.

. . .

Choi Yeonjun celebrates his 18th Christmas without familiar faces by his side (except for the three boys), and it’s strange – he has a video call with his parents twice, because it’s officially Christmas in Korea when it’s only four in the afternoon in Scotland. When he calls his parents at twelve midnight to wish them Christmas (again, just because he can), it’s already eight in the morning for his parents. They laugh at the absurdity of the situation, finding distance and time zones strange. It’s both good and bad kind of strange, though. Good, because it’s a new experience for him, and it’s also a White Christmas (he learnt from Kai that it doesn’t snow so often in UK during Christmases though Scotland is always luckier on the scale); the rest of the boys aren’t bad companions, and it’s a good kind of strange because he finds himself liking it more than he thought he would be.

Bad, simply because he _misses_ home.

His parents, of course, offered to buy a plane ticket so that he could return home, but he declined. He’s afraid of returning. He’s afraid to return because he knows Soobin won’t be there – _he’s not there_. He doesn’t want to be disappointed for his absence, knowing all tad too well that he’s reaching for nothing but stupid enough to still trying for it anyway. Hence, he decided to play safe – which was to stay away. It hurts, though, staying away. He figures that whatever decision he’s making at this point is going to hurt for as long as Soobin is involved.

“Merry Christmas!” Beomgyu shouts, his voice echoes throughout the house, jumping around with his stupid, red santa hat. “Taehyun, Merry Christmas! Kai, Merry Christmas! Yeonjun, Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, everyone! Merry, Merry Christmas!”

Yeonjun looks up from his phone after hanging up with his parents, startled at the sudden outburst of the now blond boy, and though he wants to be _angry,_ a warm smile slowly breaks upon his lips. Taehyun and Kai both come out from the bedrooms with phones tightly clutched in their hands, and Yeonjun figures that the two had also just ended calls with their parents. They looked rather annoyed, but soon enough they smile, too. Yeonjun smiles, smiles and smiles. Beomgyu’s smile really is contagious, Yeonjun concludes.

“Merry Christmas, boys!” Yeonjun says.

“Merry Christmas!” Kai lets out a painful dolphin-like scream.

“Merry Christmas!” Taehyun says, sounding just as normal as Yeonjun.

They exchange gifts on the floor, definitely no lit-up Christmas tree, but it doesn’t make it less Christmas for each of them. Yeonjun receives a red scarf from Taehyun, a pair of expensive, wool gloves Beomgyu (rich kid privilege is what Yeonjun called him), and Kai got him a red beanie that he can pair of with the scarf. Yeonjun thanks them, saying that he’ll use them well, now that the weather is getting cooler. It warms his heart, really, in every way there is, in every way possible.

Yeonjun thinks that perhaps that it’s quite crazy, but after having a short group photo session, they run down the stairs, out of their block, and catch snowflakes on their tongues while making snow angels on the blanket of snow at a nearby park, being children again. It’s nice. They laugh. The street is beautifully lit up with fancy Christmas decorations on the rows of houses. The sky’s beautiful and the snow’s falling gracefully onto the open stage – it reminds Yeonjun to the day of when he first met Choi Soobin, though it isn’t as heavy. It’s just _enough_ to make them able to have the time of their lives.

“I miss home,” Taehyun says amidst the falling flakes. “But, this ain’t bad, at all. I like this.”

Yeonjun subtly nods to that, and he can see Beomgyu and Kai nodding their heads as well by his peripheral vision.

Yeonjun likes it, too – he’s sure of it – _so why does his heart ache so bad he feel like crying_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if there's any wrong information regarding the climate/geography of all the places mentioned in this one. it's not based on experience but only on readings from books and the internet. nevertheless, i hope you enjoyed the chapter. thank you for reading, and do leave kudos and comments juseyo! <3


	5. alive. breathing. surviving.

_Choi Yeonjun is okay_.

As the days in the UK get tougher and tougher, with school assignments that are piling up, attending his BookClub weekly meetups after class hours and frequent hangouts with Taehyun, Beomgyu and Kai, Choi Yeonjun finds himself having lesser and lesser time to think and dwell on whatever he is feeling (during the day at least). He thinks it’s a really good thing that he’s now occupied with other stuffs, that his schedules are packed, and even when he has some leisure time, he spends it on sleeping to make up to all the sleeps he has lost previously, or watching Netflix, or reading. It makes him feel almost robotic for the fixed schedules and routines – like a system embodied within his being – but he conforms to them all, without complains, and he’s _okay_. He carries himself well, laughs when he needs to, and people like him.

Yeonjun’s okay – alive, breathing, _surviving._

Choi Soobin still lives at the back of his mind, _of course,_ alive – probably more alive than he ever is. It’s bearable during the day – due to the hectic timetables that he has – so he finds himself focusing on the tasks at hands instead of the other boy. However, when the sun has finally set and made way for the moon to take over in ruling the sky, that’s when it gets hard, because Soobin is _alive and active_ in his mind that Yeonjun fails to sleep. It doesn’t happen every night because some days are too draining it’s easy for him to lose himself in the fatigue, but some days, he lets Soobin consume him – all of him – defenceless and defeated and he’ll cry himself to sleep afterwards. He still thinks it’s _okay_ – still carrying Soobin with him, wherever he goes, wherever he is. Soobin’s safe in his heart and mind, and for that he’s _okay._

Yeonjun misses Soobin every day, terribly and horribly. Worse after a heartbeat. Worst in a single breath.

He thinks it’s ridiculous how Soobin _left_ , but he’s never _gone_. A bit unfair, too.

Unknowingly, Choi Yeonjun begins to live for Choi Soobin, _and not for himself_.

. . .

“Hey,” Taehyun greets once he enters the room and sits on his bed from across the room, a bag hanging from his left shoulder and a red file in his right hand. Yeonjun looks up from his laptop to the red-haired, and frowns upon seeing the expression on his face. He looks tired, which makes sense since he had just finished his classes and it’s already late afternoon, but it seems like there’s something else going on, too. It’s so unlike him because he always seems calm and grounded, but today he looks like he’s finally lost it and it bothers Yeonjun a hell of a lot.

“Hey,” Yeonjun replies. “Is everything okay?”

“I had a call with my little sister on the way here,” Taehyun begins, fiddling with his fingers, “and I can’t help wondering, when will this homesickness go away?”

For a moment, it’s just silence engulfing the room. Yeonjun stares at Taehyun with an unreadable expression on his face, pondering hard at the question as a lump forms on his throat. His saliva feels like sand against the roof of his mouth, and he has trouble swallowing. However, the past couple months not only have taught him to adapt to the uncomfortable changes, but they also taught him how to pretend – to _hide,_ to _run –_ and with a breath, he puts a comforting smile on display for the other boy to see.

“It will _never_ go away,” Yeonjun answers truthfully, or at least _his_ truth anyway because that’s what he’s feeling every day, “but, you’ll make room for it, and with time, you’ll get used to it.”

The last part is, of course, a _lie_. He thinks it’s hopeful and uplifting enough, and he figures it’s the _right_ thing to say. Isn’t that what people always say anyway – that _it gets better with time_? He doesn’t know if it’s the truth because it’s been months but he still _can’t_ bring himself to get used to it. It still hurts. Still painful. Aching. Throbbing. _He_ doesn’t get any better, and for him, it’s just a constant loop of _adapting_ and just that. His entire heart is heavy with emptiness; the void within him stretches into something he fails to fathom and it eats him from the inside like a goddamned parasite. It doesn’t get better. In fact, it gets _lonelier_ , in every sense there is.

However, he figures that Taehyun doesn’t need to know that, and it’s okay because he isn’t as transparent when it comes to the said boy – after all, Taehyun is not Beomgyu who can read him like an open book, though he’s quite observant. Hence, he lies. Easy and effortless, words plain bare on his tongue.

“You think so?”

“I _believe_ so,” another white lie.

Taehyun looks at Yeonjun then – a little too hard and there’s even a moment Yeonjun thinks the boy might cry – before he speaks, though almost hesitantly and reluctantly. “Sometimes it scares me looking at you. It _almost_ hurts looking at you.”

Yeonjun bites the inside of his cheek until all he can taste is metallic and iron. “Why?”

“You just really remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“My dead brother.”

Yeonjun thinks Taehyun barely makes any sense. After all, how can he, _who’s alive and breathing_ , remind Taehyun of someone who’s _dead_?

Some days after, Yeonjun finds himself wondering – when he looks at his own reflection through the mirror as he brushes his teeth in the bathroom – if he really looks like the dead.

Taehyun doesn’t make sense, because the person he’s seeing in the mirror looks _deader_ than the dead. Especially the eyes. _Always_ the eyes, for the eyes never lie. There’s only nothingness behind his eyes. The lights are gone. Cold. Dark. Distant.

_Dead._

Choi Yeonjun’s desperate to be okay. He _wants_ to be okay.

“I’m okay…” Yeonjun trails off, head tilting to the side in confusion as he stares into the mirror, the eerie silence screams into his ears. “Aren’t I?”

He scoffs at the realisation before he rinses his mouth.

 _Choi Yeonjun is not okay_.

. . .


	6. the days when it rains flames

Amidst missing Choi Soobin and trying his damn best to stay _afloat_ , life rolls like a blur after that for Choi Yeonjun.

He watches silently as the rest of his days unfold before his eyes — floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, awake but barely _there_ — but he manages to carry himself well as usual, though it becomes unbearably draining on some days. He hides _himself_ behind a façade, and _runs,_ his back hangs heavy against his frame and his shoulders slump as if he’s carrying the weight of the world within him. Maybe, _maybe,_ he does because when Soobin’s gone, everything’s heavy and he’s small. He isn’t there anymore to make things bearable. He notices, too, that the day after Taehyun had revealed the existence of his dead brother and how Yeonjun reminds him very much of him, the red-haired boy has somehow become a little too careful around him. He still laughs with him, jokes and talks about everything there is to talk about, but Taehyun also always has that fleeting, burning gaze upon Yeonjun when he thinks Yeonjun isn’t looking.

Like he’s watching over him. To make sure he doesn’t trip and _fall._

To ensure that Choi Yeonjun is _awake_ still, and not _dead_ like his brother.

He wonders if Beomgyu notices since he always notices _him_ and things, because the boy doesn’t act like he knows. If he does know, then he’s kind enough to not let it show.

At times, Yeonjun finds himself wanting to cry because the sorrow and despair are heavy, and Taehyun’s quiet scrutiny heavier — his eyes hot and his throat tighter —but he breathes, and swallows the sadness and silence down. Buries it deep in his chest in a place where nobody will find it, except for himself. Lets it reside within him because he really _doesn’t_ know how to let it out there without breaking himself apart in the process — because what’s within him is a storm. He swallows, breathes and feels the inflate and deflate of his chest, and he wonders why it hurts even to breathe. His lungs hurt, and his trachea burns like it’s on fire. He wonders what would ease the pain and burn. He wonders and wonders, one thought leads to many others, and then he ends up wondering with a thought that sends shivers down his spine, one that causes his breath hitches and the hair on his arms stands.

He wonders if it would stop hurting if he stopped _existing_ altogether _._

It isn’t ideal, of course, but Yeonjun thinks it would be _enough._

The thing is, Yeonjun acknowledges, how _hard_ life is without Choi Soobin. When he left, Yeonjun had — _has_ — his first heartbreak, and _honestly,_ he doesn’t know what to do about it, with it. Soobin had always been there, with him and for him — a compass to guide him and an anchor that kept him secure and grounded — and now that he’s gone, Yeonjun is hopelessly lost. Yeonjun knows, and it hurts because the wound is still bleeding and throbbing though it has been months, and it hurts because when he thinks about Soobin, he thinks about him and them in a _past_ tense because that’s all there is to it. A past. Not present and future is certainly uncertain. Yeonjun is stuck in the past, in the times when he was five and Soobin appeared with a telescope under his arm. When he was fifteen and a faint, tingling brush of Soobin’s lips upon his forehead. When he was seventeen and Soobin looked at him as if he was all that mattered under the endless sky behind the huge window of his attic when they were supposed to be at the senior prom. When he was eighteen and Soobin and his freakishly long limbs were curled against the broad of his chest and Soobin’s minty and strawberry scent lingered on his skin like some sort of cheap cologne.

In Yeonjun’s head, he’s still there and Soobin’s there, too.

In reality, Yeonjun’s still there, but Soobin’s no longer there.

Yeonjun breathes though it hurts, and looks out to the world from the window of his room. It’s almost the end of spring, and the shade of nature is brighter — almost blinding that he _almost_ hates it (because how could the world still _revolve_ when his has stopped) — now that summer is around the corner. Every other day, it’s like a reminder, that _this_ is it, now. Soobin’s gone, and through all of his posts on Instagram, Yeonjun sees that Soobin’s moved on. It hurts — he’s alone, and the pain aching to his bone.

Yeonjun breathes even it burns, and he looks.

Through the transparent of the window, Yeonjun sees the flowers blooming.

Through the faint reflection on the window, Yeonjun sees himself _falling_.

. . .

Somewhere around the last week of the semester, Choi Yeonjun somehow sees the _end._

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t know where the urge and courage come from — whether it’s the high from Changbin’s vape that he took a couple experimental blows, or if it’s summer again and summer is Choi Soobin, or if it’s the excitement from having a summer break that’s starting the following week — but it drives him to the edge, to the end of the world, and he feels he _can_ do anything. Through his hazy judgement and foggy mind, he feels he can do anything and everything, except that he _can’t_ because Soobin’s his kryptonite and he’s barely awake at this point.

Yeonjun doesn’t know it yet.

Hence, he reaches over for his phone, and slides his forefinger over the green button upon the digits that he has long memorized at the back of his mind.

It doesn’t ring.

It doesn’t ring like he hopes to.

“ _The number you have dialled is not in service.”_

Oh.

_Oh._

Yeonjun ends the call, and looks up from his phone. He thinks he sees Taehyun, a bunch of now faded red on his head, and he thinks he sees the boy is looking at him worried and concerned, and he thinks he’s saying something, too, but Yeonjun doesn’t know exactly. Everything appears blurry and unclear; everything’s muted into a silence, but it’s loud in his ears. He’s shaking, and it’s cold, but it doesn’t matter.

Kang Taehyun’s still looking at him, and he remembers the dead brother, and Choi Yeonjun somehow really sees the end.

. . .

The first day of summer, the boys hang out by the sidewalk under their block, sitting on the warm pavement, melting ice creams in their sticky hands.

“I miss the sky in Liverpool,” Kai says under the summer heat. A soft smile graces his features, golden shine on his cheekbones. “A _lot_.”

“I miss the sky in Seoul, a lot, too,” Beomgyu tells, and though there’s a teasing lilt lacing his voice, Yeonjun can tell that he _means_ it, somehow. After all, it has been almost a year since they were home.

It’s nice, Yeonjun thinks, to have something to miss, but only as a yearning and longing without the stinging pain. To miss something, that’s out of reach, out of league, but knowing it’s still there, and in that sense alone, _reachable and graspable_.

Yeonjun misses something — someone — that _isn’t._

“It’s just the sky,” Taehyun says, “what’s there to miss? It’s _always_ there. Always the same.”

“ _No_ , you don’t get it,” Kai counters, speaking with his face and his hands flailing in front of him, “the sky _there_ is breathtaking. Spectacular. I wish you could see it someday, then only you’d understand that it’s not _just_ the sky.”

Beomgyu laughs, Taehyun joins him right after, and the echo of their laugh rings loud in his ears. The three talk, and Yeonjun listens absentmindedly, but he thinks they mention about visiting Liverpool and Kai’s family one day, and how Taehyun prefers to visit during football season so that he can watch football match at the famous Anfield Stadium. They talk about the future, making plans, like they’re certain it’s going to happen and jealousy sparks and fills Yeonjun’s being. They talk like they’re not afraid. As if they’re okay with planning things and they’ll be okay if they don’t happen like they want to simply because they find an utmost joy in _planning_ alone. He _can’t_ talk about the future like that. The ability is long dead and gone.

From his peripheral vision, Yeonjun sees Kai, and the boy has his eyes on the sky, openly staring — defenceless and vulnerable — as if he’s in love with it, for _all of it,_ the seen and unseen, despite the terrifying vastness. Yeonjun wonders if the skies in Edinburgh and Liverpool are _that_ different that Kai misses it a lot. He unknowingly looks up to see the sky. It’s heavenly blue — the bluest he has ever seen — and he wonders if the blue is different in Liverpool, whether it’s in the lighter or darker shade of blue, whether the clouds are light or fluffy, and what makes it so special to Kai. He looks, and the clouds are faint in the distant horizon, the sun is high up on its throne — scorching and blinding — and it somehow looks like that one summer day on a shabby rooftop with a best friend that’s no longer around.

The sky’s blue, and for some reasons, Yeonjun sees Soobin in blue, and now Yeonjun’s _blue_ , too. However, Soobin left and doesn’t stay, despite Yeonjun having himself painted in all of blue, just like him — basking in the colour of Soobin.

Soobin _doesn’t_ stay despite that.

Yeonjun thinks that’s what hurts the most.

Beomgyu cracks a joke out of nowhere, and it’s funny so, Yeonjun silently laughs. He looks to the unreachable sky once more, and though he _knows_ that Valencia sky is just as beautiful, he can’t help wishing that Soobin was there with him, because Edinburgh sky is beautiful, too.

. . .

Choi Soobin is alive in forms of a memory and a ghost that lingers way too long after his _death._ Yeonjun remembers — the softness and smoothness of Soobin’s skin, the warmness of his palms, the graceful ups and downs of his backbone on his fingertips, the gentle slope of his nose and the subtle shadows of his lashes on his cheeks, the depth of his dimples, the minty, strawberry scent that lets Yeonjun know he’s safe and sound — and it hurts. He remembers it all, Soobin’s a map he memorizes wherever and whenever, one that he can read with his eyes shut tight, and the recognition and familiarity set him ablaze. Soobin isn’t there, yet Yeonjun sees him everywhere.

Soobin, too, is alive in the forms of his old MP3 and books that Yeonjun has carried all the way from Seoul to the UK. He took them _illegally_ a day before his flight, finding the old music player device deep down in one of Soobin’s drawers, and a couple books of Haruki Murakami, John Green, Franz Kafka, Ernest Hemingway, Lang Leav, and of course, J. D. Salinger’s _Catcher in the Rye_ from his shelf. He brings them all with him, secured in the smallest luggage he owns, hoping to find Soobin in between the lyrics, in between the papers. He does find him _there,_ traces of him in each rhyme and melody, in every lines and pages.

Soobin wasn’t there for Yeonjun to bring; hence, he brought his _souls_ — everything that is Soobin _—_ instead. Puzzle pieces and fragments of a best friend, one that he loves, one that leaves. They make him miss Soobin more, but in some ways, they make it _bearable,_ too _._ That keeps Soobin alive; that keeps Yeonjun _breathe,_ too. He knows _breathing_ isn’t enough, because breathing doesn’t mean you’re alive, but for now, it’ll do. It _will_ do.

Yeonjun turns on the MP3 player and puts one of the earpieces to his left ear. Soobin has hundreds of songs in it, with many of them Yeonjun has never heard of. It’s a world of Soobin’s that he’s about to unravel, to learn, and he breathes. He sets the play mode to _shuffle_ and as he flips to the first page of Haruki Murakami’s Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, the first track starts to play.

Yeonjun has never heard the song before, but when the chorus and bridge come, he thinks of Soobin and the latter becomes another great mystery of the universe. Yet, he’s relieved he _finds_ him there, yet again.

_I'm a wanderess_

_I'm a one night stand_

_Don't belong to no city_

_Don't belong to no man_

_I'm the violence in the pouring rain_

_I'm a hurricane_

_I'm a hurricane_

_I'm a hurricane_

_He says, "Oh baby, beggin' you to save me_

_Well lately, I like 'em crazy_

_Oh, maybe, you could devastate me_

_Little lady, come and fade me_

Yeonjun breathes _himself_ out, and breathes _Soobin_ in, letting the said boy to fill every fibre of his being, and it _ruins_ his inside, like how hurricane is meant to _destroy_ the earth.

. . .

A few days into the summer break, the boys make quite an abrupt, spontaneous plan of going to the beach. It happens when Taehyun quietly confessed _I miss the beach_ during dinner, and Yeonjun and the rest find themselves hanging over the phone, informing their parents that they won’t be returning home that break. Yeonjun’s dad transfers some money into his account right away though the boy has insisted that he has his own savings and all, to which his dad only replies him with, “ _let's just consider this as all the opportunities that I had missed before. Go see the world for me._ " Yeonjun thinks he almost cries, but he thinks he really is lucky even more.

The same night, the boys all cramped up in the living room, phones and laptops in their hands and laps as they survey on this and that, here and there. The next day, they go to a nearby mall to get tents and all the necessary equipment, toiletries, and a huge supply of unhealthy food —instant noodles, snacks, chocolates, more instant noodles but in cups, soft drinks and a couple bottles of mineral water. Yeonjun has a blast in between the aisles with his housemates, running around with the trolley in his hands that the wheels squeak against the ceramic tiles, and he laughs, and he thinks of Soobin, and he thinks the boy would enjoy it, too.

Later that evening, they pack their things with Beomgyu’s playlist blasting loudly in the background, and go to bed excited and giddy. It’s the most excited Yeonjun has ever been in a while, though beneath his chest, there’s _something_ else, too — heavier and noticeable, but he ignores, setting it aside. He thinks perhaps it’s summer, and he’s about to spend it with a bunch of people that he didn’t know exist until last fall, and not with a familiar boy that he’s grown to love anymore. As always, he sleeps the sadness away, a quite unbearable action at first, but he adapts, and eventually it becomes another routine that he’s accustomed to.

The following morning, Yeonjun finds himself at the backseat of a not-the-nicest rented car, with Kai on the other end of the seat. Beomgyu is in the passenger’s seat, and Taehyun being the only one with a driver’s license, is behind the steering wheel. It’s still dark when they begin their journey, and though Yeonjun’s tired all the time, sleepiness doesn’t hang on his eyelids this time, and he’s _awake_ more than ever. He has the window opened because the AC apparently isn’t working, and the rest follows suit, letting the dewy air fills the car, the cold morning wind dancing messily in between their hairs and against their skins. Yeonjun closes his eyes as he props his chin on the window, and he shivers, but he feels undeniably good inside, like he’s slowly _letting go —_ everything there is that he can and can’t name — in the loud rush of the wind, leaving them behind as the car moves forward, further and away.

It’s a fun trip, though Yeonjun doesn’t talk much, only setting his eyes on the blue hour sky —dark and quiet, its beauty pure, unseen and untouched. Beomgyu and Taehyun are bickering once again, filling in the gaps of silence within the car with animated intonations of their voices until it’s no longer silent, while Kai is sleeping soundlessly with his head rests against the window, a small pillow is stuck around his neck. Yeonjun’s amused with how the car’s moving so fast on the bumpy road, and yet the boy doesn’t even budge, what more to wake up.

Beomgyu and Taehyun, miraculously, make up after having their first fight that morning, the first of the day, the first of many. It started when Beomgyu loudly blamed the other for renting a car with a radio that doesn’t work — it has something to do with the frequency and all, according to Taehyun. The red-haired who happens to have quite a temper when Beomgyu is around, only managed to defend himself with _how am I supposed to fucking know that it doesn’t have a functioned radio?_

“I thought you learnt these frequency stuffs in Physics? Don’t you have Physics in engineering course? Why can’t you fix it?”

Taehyun rubs his temple, and in the end, he _insincerely_ apologizes for renting the very car when he could’ve rented some other cars with a working radio. He also tells Beomgyu not to yell anymore because it’s too early in the morning and he’s not up for _him_ yet, and the other strangely obeys, though he doesn’t know what he meant by that. Yeonjun senses something in the air, and he catches Taehyun’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, and smiles knowingly. Taehyun looks away almost immediately but not before raising one of his brows challengingly, cheeks tinted, and Yeonjun’s smile breaks even wider. He then wonders if Beomgyu notices, like he always does. It’s still dark, but if Beomgyu looks close enough, he will notice. After all, Taehyun doesn’t even bother to hide it, and things are always noticeable if you pay them real and close attention. Yeonjun wonders if the boy wants Beomgyu to notice it, too, because it seems like Taehyun really wants the loud boy to see, _whatever_ there is to see.

“Hey, Tyun,” Beomgyu begins after a few minutes of silence, and he receives a grumpy _hm_ from the driver, in which it causes Yeonjun to laugh silently at the back. “What is the best _key_ to have for dinner?”

A silence follows, before a low, “Gyu, I’m driving. If you don’t plan to die just yet, don’t distract me.”

“Is that an indirect way to say ‘I don’t know; I’m sorry for being so stupid’?” Beomgyu retorts, his tone annoyingly teasing.

“I’ll answer anything, but not that nonsense.”

“That’s a very stupid excuse,” the other replies, and from his voice alone, Yeonjun can tell he’s rolling his eyes, too.

Taehyun lets out an annoyed grunt, which earns a giggle from Beomgyu. “ _I don’t know,_ Gyu. My brain can’t function properly this very early in the morning, you see,” he says in defeat, almost mockingly and Beomgyu laughs even louder, and in the darkness, his laugh is the brightest it almost hurts, in a good way. Yeonjun blinks, and he listens to the laughter, and lets it sink in. It feels like a good dream somehow — Beomgyu’s laugh feels and sounds like that.

“ _Ddaeng_! That’s wrong,” Beomgyu playfully smacks Taehyun on the shoulder before he turns slightly to face Yeonjun. “Hey, what’s your answer?”

“Uh,” Yeonjun tilts his head a degree or two as he thinks, giving out his guess a couple seconds later. “I’m not sure, but _turkey,_ I guess?”

Beomgyu enthusiastically claps his hands as he winks. “That is why you’re my favourite! You just get it!” he then turns back to the front, and says to the red-haired, “And that shows how stupid you are, my friend.”

Beomgyu earns a backhand in merely an instant from Taehyun, and the whole journey turns to be a quiet one for a minute or two — only the winces Beomgyu dramatically lets out can be heard as he rubs the pain at the side of his upper arm away. Yeonjun shakes his head in amusement as he watches the two in front silently from the back. He feels warm, and when he turns to look at sleeping Kai, he feels warmer, and he feels he can do that forever — just watching them, just like how he thinks he can watch Soobin forever, whatever he does, whatever they do. The idea ain’t bad; he feels the warmest at the thought.

“It’s too quiet in here,” Beomgyu mumbles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat because he can’t stand the silence. “It’s _killing_ me.”

At that remark, Yeonjun reaches over for his backpack that he places at his feet, and draws out Soobin’s MP3 that he brings along with him. He taps Beomgyu on the shoulder and hands him the small device; the latter then immediately plugs it in into the USB/MP3 port, and fortunately, it works.

“You should’ve told me earlier that you brought this,” Beomgyu says when the first track starts to play, and Yeonjun lets out a low chuckle as a reply.

Yeonjun listens to the intro that’s awfully familiar — one of Soobin’s favourite songs to ruin with his voice that he misses a tad too much — and smiles. It’s an old song, and he wonders if the boys have heard of it before. He sees Beomgyu bobbing his head to the beat, while Taehyun has his fingers drumming on the steering wheels, but he really can’t tell, until the chorus comes.

_BECAUSE MAYBBBBEEEE_

_YOU'RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAVES MEEEEEE_

_AND AFTER ALLLLLLLLLL_

_YOU'RE MY WONDERWALLLLLLLL_

Yeonjun laughs aloud when Beomgyu sang the chorus at the top of his lungs, and how his voice cracks at the long, high-pitched ‘wonderwall’ line. He _really_ laughs it hurts he almost can’t see what’s ahead.

“I can’t believe you know this song!”

“Damn, this is my jam since the day I was born! My parents used to listen to this song a lot that it grew on me too. Now, let’s hit the chorus together, shall we?”

Yeonjun shakes his head, chuckling, “Kai’s sleeping.”

“Who cares?” Beomgyu laughs, and Yeonjun wishes he’d have the every reasons to laugh like that forever. “Who even sleeps during vacation anyway? Come on, Tyun! On 3!”

Taehyun laughs, eyes crinkling and his features soften, adoration on display. “All right.”

“2!” Beomgyu shouts.

“1!” Taehyun continues, just as loud.

And they hit the chorus — the three of them. Loud and careless. Against the rush of the wind, Yeonjun hears his voice, along with Beomgyu and Taehyun’s, and they sound awful and regretful, but they never stop. He lets his voice out, and he never stops. He ends up laughing loudly, his whole body shakes as adrenaline rushes in his veins, eyes shut tight as he feels a tear escapes from the slit of his eyes. He leans and throws his head back, trying to catch his breath, and he feels himself slowly letting go. It aches, but it doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. It still burns, but the pain soothes him. It’s confusing, but Yeonjun smiles.

“One more time!”

_I SAID MAYYYBBEEEEEEEEE_

_YOU'RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAVES MEEEEE_

_AND AFTER ALLLLLLLL_

_YOU'RE MY WONDER—_

“For the love of God, please shut up! You all ruin my sleep!” Kai yells, his voice overpowers the rest’ that it silences the others, as his pillow flies to hit Beomgyu square on the face.

“For the love of God, please get back to sleep! You ruin our party!” Beomgyu retorts as he stops the music, throwing back the pillow to the back as he mimics the sleepy boy.

Kai shoots Beomgyu a glare before he looks at Taehyun through the rear-view mirror, knowing that it’s only him who can keep Beomgyu quiet. However, Taehyun only gives him a nonchalant shrug.

“Come on, Kamal. It’s our first getaway together.”

Kai then turns to look at Yeonjun, as if asking for help. The two, though quiet and unspoken, know that they have a chemistry that they don’t have with the other two. While Taehyun and Beomgyu are fire, Kai and Yeonjun are water; and they all need each other to balance the dynamics in their circle, especially after knowing that Taehyun and Beomgyu have a habit of picking at each other at the smallest of things. However, at that moment, Yeonjun feels like he wants to _let go and just be,_ and so, he says, “Come on, Kai.”

Kai pouts for a split second only for Yeonjun to see, before he turns to Beomgyu with an annoyed huff. “Just turn on the goddamned music again.”

Taehyun laughs, follows by Beomgyu, and just like the famous domino effect, Yeonjun finds himself laughing, too. Kai, who finally lets his guard down, joins them not too long after that. Yeonjun sends Kai a soft smile, and he replies with a smile just as soft. Beomgyu plays the song again, and they wait for the chorus to come again, their fingers tapping on their thighs, and they hold their breaths and —

_I SAID MAYBBBEEEEEEE_

_YOU'RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAVES MEEEEE_

_AND AFTER ALLLLLLLL_

_YOU'RE MY WONDERWALLLLLL_

_I SAID MAYBE_

_YOU'RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAVES ME_

_YOU'RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAVES ME_

_YOU'RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAVES ME_

“I’m not going to lie,” Taehyun says once the song ends, “we sound terribly terrible!”

Kai giggles. “Who the hell cares? What’s the next song?” he asks all hyped up, probably more than the three.

The instrumental begins, and Yeonjun immediately smiles. “It’s—“

“Lost Stars,” Taehyun cuts Yeonjun off.

“By Adam Levine,” Beomgyu continues.

“From my favourite movie of all time, _Begin Again,_ ” Kai finishes.

“I like your music taste,” Taehyun comments.

“It’s not mine,” Yeonjun denies, a smile gracing his lips, bitterness on his tongue but he breathes it in. “It’s my best friend’s.”

Then, they sing again. If Yeonjun had to pick a moment in which he has no walls around him (all the moments after Soobin’s gone), his most carefree moment — when he isn’t guarded by fears and anxieties, he’d pick that one. When he’s in the car with the window opened, singing ever so loudly that his throat dries and lungs burn, when the rest of the world is still asleep and he’s wide awake, during his 19th summer. He’d pick that one.

_Who are we?_

_Just a speck of dust within the galaxy_

_Woe is me_

_If we're not careful turns into reality_

_Don't you dare let our best memories_

_bring you sorrow_

_Yesterday I saw a lion kiss a deer_

_Turn the page maybe we'll find_

_a brand new ending_

_Where we're dancing in our tears and_

_God, tell us the reason youth_

_is wasted on the young_

_It's hunting season and the lambs_

_are on the run_

_Searching for meaning_

_But are we all lost stars?_

_Trying to light up the dark_

Yeonjun smiles for the nth times his cheeks start to hurt, and though he can’t really pinpoint what he’s actually, really feeling at that moment, he figures it’s one of the moments he’s in that he desperately wishes for the time to stop so that he can live in the moment forever. It feels like that — it feels like one summer day when Soobin was leaning into his palm with rainbows in his eyes and sunset on his skin, and now a year later, though it isn’t a sunset but a sunrise in the sky, it feels _exactly_ like that: a summer on a rooftop of an abandoned factory from a year ago. He’s still there, holding Soobin in his hand, but he’s here too, singing and laughing with some other boys who aren’t Soobin, and for once, Yeonjun finds himself being _okay_ with that.

It’s nice. It’s not Yeonjun’s happiest moment, but he loves it anyway. Taehyun’s driving over the speed limit everything out passes by like a dash it’s almost unreal, and the music’s loud but their voices are louder, and they’re just laughing their hearts out as they sing off-key to songs after songs, and the winds are roaring against their voices; Yeonjun feels so damn happy he damn near cries.

It’s silence after that, when another song plays, and it’s unfamiliar to Yeonjun. Judging by how everyone is only listening but not singing, he knows that the song isn’t only unfamiliar to him.

_I'm sorry you saw me shaking_

_Stay with me for a day_

_I've got no one to hold me_

_Cause I, I turn them all away_

_I don't wanna be alone_

_But I'm better on my own_

_Cause I'm fragile_

_God I'm fragile_

It aches, of course, because the song is cruelly pounding on his bones, and now he’s reminded of a beautiful boy miles away from _home,_ and how he’s screaming in his veins, and how the song sings his struggles into the air, filling the atmosphere. He remembers Soobin, and he realises that he has three friends _hopefully_ for life with him in a foreign land, but _who_ does Soobin have with him? He closes his eyes, and he sees Soobin with dimples popping on the sides of his cheeks, and the image burns at the back of his mind, and when the next verse comes, it _crashes_. Yeonjun bites the inside of his cheek unconsciously, not until he tastes metallic and iron once again.

_I'm sorry you saw me breaking_

_But stay with me don't stray_

_God, I wish you would hold me closely_

_Don't think I don't feel the same_

_I'm better on my own_

_But I don't wanna be alone_

_'Cause I'm fragile_

_God, I'm fragile_

Yeonjun opens his eyes, and he still sees Soobin. When he catches Taehyun’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, he smiles though it hurts.

Taehyun knows what it means: Choi Yeonjun is no longer _afloat_.

* * *

hello. first of all, i would like to apologise for taking so long to update this chapter. i had recently finished my internship, and life has been quite busy after that. also, this story requires _a lot_ from me, though i wrote this and left it unfinished when i was 18, and now i'm continuing and rewriting it after four years. i had to change things here and there simply because things have changed (and perhaps i've changed too). i hope you find it enjoyable still hehe kudos and comments are very much appreciated because they are what keep going. thank you!


	7. i reach, even if you've gone far away

_**cw // panic attack, delusion, suicide attempt** _

The boys eventually arrived at the destination approximately five hours later, right before lunchtime, and though it had been quite a long journey, it was a fun ride nevertheless. Yeonjun eventually fell asleep halfway throughout the journey — after bringing himself to sleep through the excruciating pain that he felt beneath his bones when the _song of Soobin_ filled the gaps in the car — and he found himself comfortably leaning and sleeping on Kai’s shoulder when Beomgyu shook him awake. He drooled a bit and the damp patch was visible on the boy’s shirt, and so he apologized and asked why he didn’t wake him up, but the other shrugged it off, saying _you looked too comfortable_ with a smile that told him that he really doesn’t mind it. Kai doesn’t mind and he really looked like he means it, despite Yeonjun thinks it was disgusting, so he smiled back genuinely, and he means it, too.

Yeonjun finds it strange how smiling comes off as easy these days.

Now, before the vast, welcoming ocean, Yeonjun stands with a pout on his lips, sleepiness still lingers on his lids, his hair sticking out on the ends in a messy yet adorable way, and he looks.

For some strange reasons, he feels _nervous._ The sea is _huge_ , too huge to his liking, and he’s tiny, as if it could swallow him whole if he ever _let go._

Ignoring the uncomfortable knot that forms under his stomach, as well as the sand on his throat and his clammy hands, Yeonjun lends a hand to the boys to pitch up their tents at the available area. A few staffs from the campsite help them in finding an area with a spectacular view of the sea, especially during sunsets and sunrises. Once done, they pay for the serviced pitches provided for two days and a night.

Looking around, Yeonjun can see a few other campers nearby, too — mostly families with little kids — all with either tents or caravans. His inside swells at the sight, and he realises how bad he misses home. The next fall, it’s going to be a year since he was home — he keeps running, and it has been a year since he _runs away,_ and hides in a land that’s foreign and unfamiliar because the familiarity of everything at home sets him ablaze. Because the familiarity in Seoul makes him want to throw up, though he terribly misses it, too. It’s always been like that — a circle with no ends. He runs, avoids, hides but the past is slowly catching up to him and honestly, he doesn’t know for how long he can keep running. He’s eventually _drained_ , and he misses home, and it aches, but he knows he can do something about it — of course he can, because he’s homesick for a home — his parents and his home — but what can he do with another fact of him having a homesickness for a _person_ that isn’t home, that’s _way too far_ from home precisely?

Yeonjun blinks the bitterness and uneasiness away when the world before him moves again, the loud chatter of his friends as they unload the trunk of the rented car gradually rings loud in his ears. Before he knows it, Beomgyu has already picked him to share the tent with for the night, as if it’s the goddamn easiest decision in the world. Perhaps, it is. He picks him within a heartbeat, under a single breath, in no hesitation — like how Soobin used to forever ago, until he stopped not too long ago. He picks him, and it _matters,_ because it’s Choi Beomgyu — not Choi Soobin — a silver-haired boy he met when he wasn’t home, when he was running away, and he sees him through the façade, and he has outgrown his silver hair so it’s jet-black now; hence, it has been a while, but not even once he judges him. It matters, because Yeonjun is a broken boy after Soobin’s absence, but Beomgyu picks him still like he’s a whole. Perhaps things don’t always have to be complicated like how they are in Yeonjun’s head. Perhaps, despite the brokenness, Yeonjun is still worth _choosing_ and _prioritising_.

“Fire can’t stay with fire,” Taehyun concludes as he loops his arm around Kai’s, and they all laugh.

Yeonjun forces himself to be okay with all of it, because he knows the boys accept him for all that he is, and it’s _okay_ that they aren’t Soobin. In fact, it matters _more_ that they’re everything and anything else but Choi Soobin, though Yeonjun still needs a little bit more time to get used to that truth.

They have lunch after that, instant noodles in cups in their hands, cans of coke at the sides of their knees. They sit at the openings of their tents, directly facing the infinite sea a few feet ahead of them, electric blue sky overhead with the hot summer shine splays carelessly on their cheeks. The warm wind blows non-stop, gently tickling on their skins, cooling them down. Yeonjun can feel the sweats trickling down to his neck, forming on his forehead and cupid’s bow, and he feels hot on the outside, but somehow, he feels _cold_ on the inside. He chews on the noodles, and gulps down the soup — they warm on his tongue as he swallows, and simultaneously, he swallows the uneasiness as well, and lets it reside and build inside of him yet again, as always.

They sit there for what it feels like forever, even when the noodles are finished and the cans of beverages are empty, openly admiring the terrifying vastness in front of them. It’s nice, Yeonjun thinks. It’s too nice, in fact — some kind of nice that’s kind of surreal, that’s too nice to be true, but it’s there, and it’s nice that it’s true. It’s silence, too — an infinite one that Yeonjun hasn’t had for a long while. It’s so quiet that he can hear the faint sound of birds chirping in a distance, which almost lulls him to sleep. Beomgyu is quiet as well, a situation Yeonjun finds strange because it has been a whole five minutes, and not even a word has left his lips. He chuckles, and Taehyun nudges him on the side, asking him why through the eyes.

Yeonjun lightly shakes his head with a smile on his lips. “It’s just kind of funny not to hear anything from Gyu for a long time.”

Taehyun giggles lowly as he leans forward to side-eye the said boy who’s sitting beside Yeonjun. Beomgyu is wordlessly staring at the sea; both of his legs are pushed back against his chest, his chin flat on the bumps of his knees, his fingers busy plucking out the grass beneath his worn-out Vans. Yeonjun looks over, and he is very fond on how calm and peaceful the boy looks at the moment. It’s plain obvious, loud on his face. He thinks it’s the very first time he ever sees him like that — Beomgyu always has a smile on his face, be it a soft, comforting, teasing or an annoying one, but he has none this time, but Yeonjun can still see and feel how content he is, to be here as if he doesn’t long to be somewhere else.

Perhaps he doesn’t. Maybe Beomgyu is really here, fully and completely present, and there’s nowhere else he prefers to be at.

It’s noticeable, really, to Yeonjun at least. When one is truly happy, it’s impossible to not notice it: the glow. The one that appears out from the deepest part of your heart. He has that glow, Beomgyu. It’s too beautiful, Yeonjun swears to God, and he almost fails to look away, but he does eventually, when looking at Beomgyu and his glow starts to be painful. It’s painful, because Yeonjun knows he _doesn’t_ have that glow. Because when one looks at him, they are reminded of a dead person, as if Yeonjun is a walking _corpse_.

Yeonjun figures that perhaps, he _is_.

. . .

When the sun has lowered on the distant horizon, when it’s almost set, casting the sky in a spectrum of bright purplish pink with a hint of faint blue, fiery red, and mellow orange, Yeonjun finds himself walking barefoot down to the beach, his slippers hanging from his fingers. Kai is walking alongside of him, while Beomgyu and Taehyun have sprinted off to the ocean, racing on who’ll get to the water first, their boisterous laughter fills the quiet air. Yeonjun smiles, though his heart starts to ache again.

“Looking at them now, I can’t believe they’re nineteen. They don’t seem like ones,” Kai breaks off the silence right when Beomgyu jumps and completely drowns himself into the water. Taehyun does the same, and within seconds, they’re soaked from head to toe. Though quite afar, Yeonjun can still see their heads popping out from the surface, and their laughter breaks once more, the loudest one yet, before Beomgyu lets out a string of curses once Taehyun splashes the water right on his face.

Yeonjun lets out a quiet laugh, “It’s nice, though. They looked so happy and free.”

Kai hums in agreement, slightly nodding his head, a soft laugh accompanies his words, “Yeah, I notice.”

For a moment there, the two boys on the shore have their eyes fixed on the boys in the water. Yeonjun figures he sure does a lot of staring that day, and really, he thinks he can do that forever: staring at the sea and the sky until he can tell where the sea ends and the sky begins, while at the same time, looking at the two, like he’s some sort of a lifesaver or something. He thinks he can do that; that doesn’t sound so bad. He’d just stare at the sea all day, and if some kids were drowning, he’d save them. He’d make sure they were safe, and he’d be sure to tell them to be careful because if they weren’t careful, the ocean would drown them in. He’d also warn them not to play on the deep side of the sea, because that’s only, plainly for the adults to play. It’s not safe for kids like them — like Taehyun and Beomgyu — to _be there._

Kai then pats Yeonjun on the back, gratifying him back down to earth from his wondering thoughts, and he thinks he says something in the line of _I’m going_ and Yeonjun nods as he watches him go, Kai’s gentle touch on his spine lingers still like a ghost. The boy swims towards both Beomgyu and Taehyun, and they’re all far, and all he can see from where he stands is their floating heads. Their bodies are gone from Yeonjun’s sight as they play on the _adult side_ , much to his dismay. They appear so small in his eyes, and for some reasons, fear ignites within him. A gust of cool breeze blows by, and he shivers, before his ears catch the boys’ loud yells of asking him to join them, their hands in the air as they wave him over. Yeonjun finds himself _failed_ to think straight, but he waves back and yells just as loud that he’ll join them afterwards, but not before he continues staring at the three for somewhat feels like an eternity.

Honestly speaking, at that moment, Yeonjun can’t pinpoint what he’s feeling. It’s as if he’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, and it’s very much confusing for him that his chaotic mind fails to comprehend. It’s loud in his head, and it _hurts._ He moves forward until the wave tickles his toes, and he can feel his feet sinks deeper into the sand as the waves go away only to come back seconds later, and he knows he should move, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays still, letting the sand to overpower him, and he _lets_ himself to feel everything and anything, whichever it is that he’s feeling. He’s present now, and he notices how the hair on his arms and neck stand due to the contradiction of hot and cool. His skin is burning, and the wind is happily dancing between his hair and all, but really, _what_ is he feeling? He is happy, sure, but it isn’t as strong as the one he felt back then in the car. There’s something else, too, and it’s growing, _growing_ , until it becomes _bigger_ than Yeonjun himself, and for all that he knows, his thoughts have turned into water, and he doesn’t know how to swim.

“Yeonjun!”

The three choruses, jolting Yeonjun awake once more, and so he breathes before he wades through the water to the others. Kai reaches out an arm, and Yeonjun grabs onto it, clinging to the boy once his toes barely touch the depth of the ocean to help him stay afloat, and he lets him be. They talk and laugh about everything there is that pops into the conversation, and he laughs too, but it feels so damn heavy. Taehyun eyes him suspiciously, and Yeonjun looks away.

“Hey, let’s see who can hold his breath underwater the longest! The last person to have his head in the air wins!” Beomgyu suggests with a giggle, droplets of water race down across his cheeks, a wet patch of hair stuck to his forehead. He looks _very_ carefree, eyes glistening against the rainbows in the sky, and Yeonjun feels the envy starts to eat him from the inside once again, like how it was back at the tent during lunch. He thinks it’s ugly, because Beomgyu is so much content with everything there is right now unlike him, and instead of being happy for the boy, he _wants_ to snatch the happiness away from him and perhaps has that delightful feeling all to himself. He bites the inside of his cheek, _hard,_ until he tastes blood on his tongue and not the nasty thought anymore. Blood is okay; his thought isn’t.

“I’m in!” Kai exclaims, letting out a dolphin-liked scream as he laughs and Yeonjun sees Beomgyu in him, and he thinks everything is just _fucking unfair._

Yeonjun _knows_ right away that Beomgyu’s idea is a bad idea because his mind is in chaos, but he finds himself agreeing after the rest does so. He feels competitive somehow. Hence, they take a deep breath and hold it in, and once Beomgyu shouts _Go!,_ they all sink themselves in.

Yeonjun closes his eyes, and it’s darkness and silence all at once. He has a hand pinching over his nose, and he can feel the bubbles formed through his mouth every once in a while before they rise up to the surface. He harshly kicks the water, though it’s quite pointless because the waves still manage to pull him even deeper that he fails to stay grounded anymore, but Kai still holds him by the arm, and he finds comfort in that. Yeonjun relaxes, and he _desperately_ wants to win, so he tries his damn best not to be up before anyone else does.

_That is a mistake._

The thing is, darkness and silence are what Yeonjun has been thoroughly comfortable to show all that he is — naked and vulnerable, without hesitation and shame, because he knows that judgments don’t exist in those elements, and he relaxes. He breathes, and he’s transported back to the darkness and silence of his room, on the comfort and warmth of his bed, and he breathes. His muscles loosen and relax against the current, and he flows, and it feels like coming home because that’s what it is since almost a year ago. Like a habit that can’t tear itself from the fibre of his being, his mind drifts back to the sole reason of his brokenness. He thinks of Soobin once more, one of many, until all he can see and feel is the lost boy, who’s still lost from his way to Yeonjun, from his _way home_.

Yeonjun lets go; his heart thrumming wildly against his ribcage at the thought, image and feel of Soobin as the said boy begins to scream in his veins, in the rush of his blood, in every beat and pulse of his heart. He remembers Soobin — his whole being is desperately yearning for him — and it burns. Yeonjun opens his eyes, and he sees Soobin, smiling his ever so bright smile, deep dimples popping and eyes twinkling as if the whole stars in the sky reside in them, and heavy ache tugs on Yeonjun’s heartstrings. He reaches over to the boy, his fingers clench and unclench as he tries to grab him, but Soobin moves, away and further, unreachable and beyond the tips of his fingers, and it drives Yeonjun _mad_. He misses him, _so much and so bad_ , so why the fuck is he moving away from him? Doesn’t he miss him too?

Yeonjun screams, or that’s what he thinks he does, and he lets the storm out. He sees tsunami and fire before his eyes — all the built up and bottled sadness, disappointment, anger, and frustration are finally spilled from his broken heart after having it holds them in for so long. Soobin remains still, though the smile on his lips has faded into a frown, wrinkles between his brows, as if he doesn’t understand _why_ Yeonjun is reacting that way.

Perhaps, he doesn’t.

Hence, Yeonjun lets him know.

Yeonjun screams, crushed and defeated, and he lets Soobin know how _broken_ he is after he left by a best friend, by him. How he feels very unworthy and betrayed. How disappointed he is that Soobin promised to never keep anything from him that one night and yet did just that. He tells him how unfair it is that Soobin’s at least okay wherever he is, and he is still holding on to the times when they were together, and not apart, and for that, he has _never_ been okay. He has been pretending for so, _so_ long and it has been damn hard to put up a façade just so anyone will be fooled into thinking that he’s okay because he thinks breaking through the walls and seeing him up close is ugly. People despise ugly things, and he’s _that,_ so they will leave, eventually, like Soobin. How unfair it is for him since the very beginning, and yet Yeonjun can never bring himself to put the blame on him, because he _understands_ Soobin and all his reasons. Because at the end of the day, he only wants Soobin to be okay, _to be happy_ , though it costs him hell to do that because he doesn’t know how to make himself happy without Soobin by his side.

Yeonjun whimpers when his heart gets heavier, but he lets Soobin know. He tells the boy that he’s angry, at Soobin for leaving and moving on like he’s _nothing_ , but angrier at himself because it has been months and yet he can’t seem to be moving on. It seems like everyone and everything else are evolving when he’s stuck in a circle with no exit. He’s angry at the boy for making a decision so thoughtlessly and recklessly without considering his thoughts and feelings, that he wasn’t even included in a such a huge decision. How frustrated he is when Soobin thought that a goddamn letter would be enough for an explanation, to make up for all of it, though Yeonjun has a whole lot of unanswered questions. He lets him know, that after his absence, _living_ has been extremely hard and _breathing_ is equal to pain, every single inhales he does is fucking hurts he thinks he could _die_. Perhaps, he has _died_. It feels like that; it sure feels like that. Soobin dropped him, just like that, and he wasn’t — isn’t — prepared because who would’ve thought that his forever would end at eighteen.

Yeonjun isn’t done; his whimper then turns into pitiful sobs, but he isn’t quite done yet. He lets him know that he changed his major all the way from Psychology to English and Creative Writing, a total opposite of who he is, simply because he _wants_ to write about him, because he wants people to read about him, because a magnificent boy like him deserves to be written about. He, of course, could’ve just written about him, but he doesn’t have the best writing skills and his vocabulary is still just as limited, and he really wants to write a piece that’s just as beautiful as Soobin, so here he is. Yeonjun thinks it’s pathetic how he still wants to write about Soobin, though the boy has stolen all of his words with him when he left — it’s not like Yeonjun has a lot to begin with — and yet he wants to write about him still. Soobin’s the poem, and he’s the poet, though he thinks it might turn painfully tragic because that’s just how it is with their story, and Yeonjun’s heart broken, and everything that’s out of a broken heart is nothing but tragic.

Yeonjun might’ve seen Soobin crying — perhaps it’s just his eyes deceiving him — but the image burns at the back of his mind, and he doesn’t think he’d forget: the sight of him crying his heart out. Soobin cries, like his heart is broken, too.

Yeonjun, finally, _finally_ tells Soobin through a soft, almost inaudible whisper, that despite it all, despite his broken heart, _he loves him still,_ for all of him and all of his ripped edges. With every broken pieces of his heart. With every breath though it burns his lungs. Soobin is a boy he had loved many years ago, that he loves all the same now, that he will love for all of tomorrows until whatever end. He apologizes — not for loving him — but for not telling him and it isn’t because he didn’t have the guts to do so, but it was simply because he thinks Soobin doesn’t belong to him. Not yet, or not anymore, or never at all — Yeonjun can’t decide which. All he knows is that Soobin doesn’t belong to him, but this time he wants to let him know anyway.

Yeonjun reaches over once more, and he blinks, but Soobin’s gone. He looks around, turning around, but the boy has disappeared. Like a faint ghost, Soobin has disappeared, leaving Yeonjun in the circle once again.

Yeonjun’s eyes turn blurry and everything moves and becomes a kaleidoscope of colours ahead of him, but Soobin is still nowhere in sight, and so he screams. Voice loud, hoarse and cracking, as he calls out for the boy. His throat tightens and at the thought of Soobin leaving again, he finally _loses_ it. He coughs, his words are pushed back down his throat as he swallows a whole lot of water, and he feels the need to breathe, so he breathes, and it doesn’t take long for him to realise that he’s, in fact, underwater, and that Soobin was, unfortunately, only in his head. A sharp, stinging pain strikes the inner sides of his nose as the water occupies his whole lungs, and he panics. He accidentally swallows another shot of water as he struggles to bring himself to the surface, kicking the water as he tries to grab one of his friends to help him float, but he fails to make contact with anyone or anything. The fear rapidly grows and spreads inside him like a wildfire, and he thinks he really is going to die — an idea he finds to be not so bad at that point in his life — and so, he just… stops.

Yeonjun stops struggling altogether. He stops fighting against the current. He feels numb, muscles sore and body frozen though the summer sea is warm. He flows, and he breathes, forming bubbles as the water fills up his heavy heart, and it doesn’t feel as bad as he thought it would be though it still feels empty as hell. He feels crushing pain in his nose and lungs, his throat swells, his chest aches. He really thinks he’s going to die, and he wonders if they’d find his dead body, or if his family would cry for him, or if his three friends would put the blame on themselves over his death, or if it would be his last summer ever.

He wonders if it would enough to really bring Soobin back to him.

However, before he can even proceed with many more depressing thoughts, he feels a sudden force around the collar of his shirt, and in no second, his head is already out of the water and he desperately gasps for air. He takes a sharp inhale of breath before he coughs loudly, spilling water from the deepest parts of his lungs out of his mouth all along the way. His feet still barely touch the ground, and he panics once again because he’s really scared of drowning and he, truly, doesn’t want to die _yet_ (what was he thinking, exactly?) until he feels quite a strong punch at the side of his left cheek, almost at the corner of his mouth.

Yeonjun finally stops flailing around, opening his eyes immediately as he begins to relax against the flow. He winces, taking his time to adjust his eyes to the surrounding, and only then he notices the mixture of fear and relief expression on his friends’ faces. He looks at them silently, eyes burning and chest pounding in a cruel manner that he can hear the loud beating of his pulse in his ears, and he finally notices that though he barely reaches the ground, both Kai and Beomgyu have him afloat by holding him on the arms. He feels blood on his tongue, strong metallic and iron taste, and once he looks at Taehyun and his bloodshot knuckles, he knows that it’s him who had landed the punch on his face. For some reasons, he’s grateful for it: the punch. It hurts, but it _wakes_ him up, and he’s grateful for it. He really is.

“You fucking scared me, Yeonjun,” Taehyun whispers, his piercing eyes trained on Yeonjun and his lips wobbly, and for a moment, he thinks the red-haired is going to cry, but he doesn’t.

“What was that? I thought you were going to kill yourself,” Beomgyu continues and he sounds almost broken and fragile, as if he’d break altogether if Yeonjun stayed underwater for just a millisecond longer.

“Let’s just get back and warm you up first,” Kai says calmly; he’s probably the calmest among them all, and Yeonjun appreciates the way he sounds like how he usually sounds, as if Yeonjun wasn’t trying to drown himself just minutes ago. However, it makes Yeonjun feel like crying, too, because though he knows it isn’t the boy’s intention at all, the way he makes it seem like it isn’t a big deal causes Yeonjun to feel sorry for them.

Yeonjun’s so lost in thoughts that he can’t bring himself to speak. He doesn’t really know what just happened. Was that counted as a suicide attempt? Did he really do what he thinks he did? Was it even real? The throbbing pain in his chest tells him that it was, indeed, real. That it happened, and that he did see Soobin and that he had a breakdown underwater after. It happened, though Yeonjun desperately wishes for it to be otherwise. _I must’ve ruined the moment,_ he thinks, and he stares at the boys once more, a little too long and the silence loud, and he thinks of how the day was supposed to be a fun one, not a tragic one, and he feels so, _so_ sorry. His vision turns blurry, blinking rapidly to rid the welling tears away, his lips trembling, breathing erratic.

“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun’s voice is low and croaked as a solemn tear finally escapes his eyes, rolling across his cheek, and he feels Kai tightens his grip on him, and that’s not supposed to crack him open even more, but it does. Before he knows it, he’s already bawling his eyes out, bringing his hands to his face as he sobs into them. “I’m sorry I ruined the day.”

“Don’t be silly, you didn’t,” Beomgyu replies, though shakily as if he’s on the verge of crying, too. Yeonjun knows that the boy means well, but for now, he thinks that he has in fact ruined the day and that’s the only truth that he can see.

The boys drag him back to the shore, and the whole time he’s only crying and shaking out of cold, but they never let him go. Not even once — not even when the water is shallow and he can walk on his own. The sun has completely set by then, leaving the sky dark and spotless, and Yeonjun would have trouble walking back to the tent if it wasn’t for the boys. He cries, and a gust of wind blows by and it’s cold, but Kai and Beomgyu’s hands are warm, and so he silently thanks God for the boys. He feels safe and secured as they guide him, and after Soobin, he has forgotten the taste of genuine friendship, but he pleas to God that _if this is how having friends feels like, then please, please, please God, let me keep these people forever._

(Yeonjun doesn’t know yet, but God does listen to his wish(es), only that he needs to learn some things the hard way first.)

* * *

hello, i hope it’s not too late for me to wish all of you a Happy New Year! i hope that things will eventually be better this year, though it’s most unlikely to happen, but above all, whatever it is that happens, i wish that each and every one us is better at handling things at hands too. and i wish that this year is a year of everything you wish for it to be. anyway, i hope you all enjoyed the read, and I was so so so happy to finally receive more comments than usual on my last update! i was so happy I even cried ahahah thank you so much for reading, and do leave comments because they really encourage me to write better! see you in the next one!


	8. in this room where only echo remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw // broken family, toxic family, suicide, self-esteem issues

Choi Yeonjun learns how _easy_ it is to let everything out when he finally has the courage to let the dam break open at the age of nineteen, just before the vast of the summer sea.

He inevitably falls sick that night, having his body temperature rises up to 38°C and once he was done showering, he bundles up in the thickest hoodie he brings (not exactly enough to keep him off the cold because it’s not his winter one but it’ll do), pairs it up with sweatpants, a beanie he unintentionally brought on his head. Realising that it’s not sufficient to warm him up, Kai’s nice enough to lend him his jacket, though it means he has to bear the cold for the night. _You need it more than I do_ was what the boy said when Yeonjun tried to refuse, and after much persuasion, he accepted and while everything’s chaotic in his head, the faint scent of woodsy vanilla from Kai’s jacket keeps him grounded. He’s alert and aware — the steady beating of his heart, the constant breath he lets out, and though all these times he avoided, he is _here_ now. He’s here, though it hurts.

He sits at the opening of the tent once again, like how he did with the boys in the afternoon, while he waits for Kai to finish showering and Beomgyu and Taehyun to return from getting food at a nearby restaurant. He tried to convince the two that he’d be okay with just ramen for the night, but Beomgyu was quick to dismiss him by saying _don’t be ridiculous, you need_ real _food_ and Taehyun soon added that he needs medicine for the fever, too. Yeonjun thinks it’s _too_ much, a little undeserving, because he’s just a boy and it’s just a fever, but then he thinks that if any of the boys fell sick, he would’ve done the same thing as well. He doesn’t mind giving, but the idea of taking what’s being offered and relying on someone else still scares the hell out of him.

Kai returns to the tent not too long after that, offering Yeonjun a warm smile that the boy finds himself grateful for. Taehyun and Beomgyu eventually return too, bags of food in hands in which Yeonjun’s sure that his medicine is in one of them, unfortunately. He scoots over, making room for Beomgyu, and once they’re done settling in, they begin to eat. The sick boy gets a large portion of chicken porridge and broth — a cliché that Yeonjun can’t help frowning at, that he thinks is a bit unfair because the others get shepherd’s pie, fish and chips and spaghetti bolognaise. They let him steal a couple (many) bites from their foods, though, so Yeonjun swallows back his whines and complains he initially wanted to bother them with. He finishes his food, along with Taehyun’s leftover pie, and once he believes he can’t take in anything anymore, he takes the medicine (only after Beomgyu _physically_ makes him by shoving the pills down his throat, followed by water afterwards).

“God, I _hate_ you!” Yeonjun whines dramatically at the faint bitter taste on the roof of his mouth, reaching over to leave quite a loud smack on Beomgyu’s shoulder.

“Good, the feeling’s mutual, you big baby!” the boy retorts back, sticking his tongue out childishly after that.

Kai and Taehyun, who finally return to their tent after disposing their takeout, only shake their heads at the playful banter between the two Choi. Yeonjun loudly groans when a dash of cool wind blows by, shivering as the breeze makes contact with his blazing skin, as Taehyun draws a fleece blanket from his bag and gently drapes it over Yeonjun’s shoulders. He looks up to red-haired, and the other only smiles down to him. “You’re burning, so I figured this would help, other than the medicine you took, of course.”

Yeonjun mumbles a low _thank you_ as he pulls the blanket closer to his frame. He finds it funny, yet endearing, how he’s sick on the very first day of their getaway and the boys have never complained — be it playful or truthful. It’s too early to say because it’s only been a few hours, but they have taken a good care of him so far, and Yeonjun’s deeply moved. Silence hovers the four of them in a comfortable manner, bright full moon hangs high from the huge expanse of the night sky, billions of stars overhead that remind Yeonjun so much of a pair of eyes belonged to a boy far from home. The sound of waves crashing the shore is almost therapeutic, almost lulls him to sleep, and Yeonjun listens intently. He follows the beaming moonshine with his eyes, looking over when it finally settles on the high of Kai’s cheekbones, freckles of constellations on his skin. He trains his gaze back to the stars, and they seem to be closer here, even closer than back he was still behind the window of his attic of his home.

Yeonjun breathes, trying to find the sea in the darkness, and he eventually, unfortunately remembers the unfortunate event he wishes he could forget. Before he could even stop his thoughts, his words spilled first, heavy on his tongue, uttered in a single breath. “Hey, I’m sorry for what happened earlier. I really am.”

It’s quiet for a while, a little too quiet to his liking that he grows afraid of ruining the moment even more, and he hopes that Beomgyu would break the silence. It surprises him when it’s Kai who speaks.

“It’s fine, really,” the boy says softly, warm against the breeze. “But, what was _that_?”

 _What was that?_ Yeonjun mentally asks himself as he tightens his grip on the blanket. He has no idea. Was it a reflex from having such disheartening thoughts underwater? Was it the demons in his head finally came alive to show who’s more in power over his being? He honestly has no idea and at that, his eyes turn glassy, lump forming on his throat. He swallows though it hurts, and croaks out a broken, “I don’t know, but I’m sorry. I ruined the day.”

Beomgyu scoffs, and though without looking, Yeonjun can see he’s rolling his eyes. “I don’t care about that, Yeonjun. The sea can wait. We have tomorrows. We have all the time in the world, and the rest can wait,” his voice comes off high-pitched, though brittle. “But now, _now,_ I want you to tell me, tell us, _what’s wrong._ ”

Hearing how fragile Beomgyu sounds, Yeonjun feels like crying. “I don’t know, Gyu.” _I don’t know how to let it all out without breaking myself apart in the process, though I’m not sure if there’s any part of me that’s not broken_ is what he wants to say, but ends up not saying.

Beomgyu turns his head to look at Yeonjun in the eyes, and there’s a hint of sadness behind the chestnut of his orbs. Yeonjun looks away because the gaze makes him nervous, and he isn’t entirely ready to open up, to let people know the wounds and edges that make all that he is today, until Taehyun beats him to it.

"When I saw you drowning back there, I was _terrified_. I was scared to death," he whispers, but Yeonjun hears him loud and clear, and he seems to know where the conversation is going — or _why_ Taehyun was terrified. He looks over, and the boy has his eyes on the sea though it’s barely graspable. “Because if you really did die back there, Jun, it'd be the second death I've ever witnessed."

A gasp can be heard from both Kai and Beomgyu, but Yeonjun knows better. _The dead brother_. Yeonjun’s grateful he’s not dead; he’s even more grateful for the punch he received from the boy, though it leaves him a bluish, almost purplish bruise at the corner of his lips that burns and stings.

“Who’s the first?” Kai asks lowly, a little too careful, but something in Yeonjun tells that Taehyun is _okay,_ that the question is okay _._

“My brother, Taehyung.” In a heartbeat, Taehyun answers, almost too easily. “I was fifteen; he was eighteen. My twin sisters were twelve. So, that’s like,” he pauses as he counts with his fingers, “four years ago.”

Yeonjun reaches over and holds Taehyun’s hand by reflex at the revelation. Taehyun chuckles, though his eyes tell a different story — wistful and longing for someone that’s not there. “I’m fine, really. I _wasn’t_ , but I’m okay now.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Beomgyu trails off lowly, “what happened?”

"My parents… They're very educated people, you know? My dad's a doctor while my mom's a lawyer. They're geniuses, and they wanted their kids to be like them too. They wanted my brother to be a doctor when in fact he wanted to be an artist. He did _amazing_ artworks, I swear to God,” at that, Taehyun’s eyes turn soft and fond as he stares at a far off horizon. Yeonjun wonders what he sees. “He always drew for me when we were kids. I still have his paintings in my room. He wasn't as amazing as da Vinci, Van Gogh or Monet, but he had his own styles and he was getting _there_ , you know? I could _feel_ it. He voiced out his dream to our parents one day, and they weren’t happy, you see. They said an artist has no future and all. I didn't get it; I still don’t. An artist definitely _has_ a future. I mean, look at Mona Lisa and The Starry Night and Waterlilies and all. The artists are dead, but look at their paintings — how the paintings live _longer_ than the artists themselves. What about that? I think _that's_ a future. How is that _not_ a future? Taehyung, of course, tried to persuade them and it went on for months, but then they locked him up in his room and he was found dead the next day."

“Suicide?” Yeonjun manages to ask, and it’s sand in his mouth again when he remembers that the subject of their conversation is what reminds Taehyun of him.

“Yeah,” the boy confirms, “cut himself open with a sharpener, but drowning did the job. Bloods were everywhere it was awful. Found him in the bathtub in his room when I was going to send him dinner,” Taehyun heaves a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “When we brought him to the hospital, the doctor, or should I say my father, said there were a lot of healed cuts on his thighs. I don't know why though. I mean, _why thighs_? The only thing I could come up with is because he wanted to _hide_ his sadness away from us, which led me to another question, how long had he been hiding stuffs from all of us? I never tell my sisters what really happened. I just told them that Taehyung was going somewhere far, somewhere beautiful where he can just paint his dreams on the sky whenever he wants to. I never tell them that he committed suicide, or what his reason was, because I don't want them to hate our parents like how I do. Don't you think it's ironic? My dad saves people's life, and yet he couldn't _save_ his own child. Mom listens to people's stories for years, and yet she couldn’t _spare_ her own son even just a minute."

Taehyun never sheds even a tear when he tells his story, which makes Yeonjun to feel relieved and sad at the same time, though the boy squeezes Yeonjun’s hand that intertwined with his time and time again. Yeonjun feels so _so_ sorry for the boy that he ends up crying, and from the other side, Kai’s sniffling softly into the sleeve of his shirt. Beomgyu rubs his eyes, telling that there’s something in them though no one’s asking why.

Yeonjun suddenly remembers one of many conversations he had with Soobin, during the previous summer. One that revolves parents and their children’s dreams. “How about you? I mean, you and engineering…”

Taehyun shrugs lazily, a smile that doesn’t reach the eyes plastered on his lips. "They were nicer to me. They gave me options: medicine, engineering or law. I said back, if they wanted me to pick either one, they couldn't decide my sisters' future, no matter what they choose to be or to do. They agreed, so I picked engineering. I picked engineering because I don't want to end up being just like them. I swear to God, if they ever try to decide what's best for my sisters, I'm going to take them and run away for good."

"So, you're sacrificing your own dream?" Beomgyu questions.

Taehyun tilts his head a degree or two as he ponders on the question, before shaking his head. “Not really. Since I _don't_ have any dreams at all. I wanted to be a pianist, but I realised it's just something I love to do in my free time. I guess my dream is just to be happy? I don't know. It's vague as hell, but can still be counted, right? To be happy no matter what life throws me. I know it's impossible to be happy all the time, but I hope the good will always outweigh the bad. I'm happy now — to be sitting here with you guys, spending summer like this, just talking about real shit and all. Coming here is probably the best decision I’ve ever made. This is like, the happiest I've ever been. Since my brother took his own life, it's hard for me to come up with a real dream. I guess it's because I finally realized that sometimes dreams are too good to be true. You can't have everything in life anyway, so that’s that."

“Damn, Taehyun,” Kai cusses lowly. “God. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be. You know, when we went through his stuffs and all, we found bottles of anti-depressant in his drawer. I still can’t believe how we had no idea about it — how I _missed_ it. It was ridiculous. He left us his last artwork, which I think affected my parents real hard. It’s a picture of a person, who shot himself in the head with a gun, and the splatters of blood then faded into butterflies. At the back of it, he wrote, _i’m sorry. taehyun, taehee and taeha. i love you, i really do but i’m sorry._ I’m no artsy person, but I think I understand what he meant through his painting — _freedom_. He craved for it. Freedom from my parents, from the monsters in his head. I still keep it in my room, the painting. Though it’s a suicide note, though it costs me hell to do that, it’s still his last words for me and my sisters, so I keep it.”

For a moment, it’s silence. Yeonjun leans closer, and places his head on the expanse of Taehyun’s shoulder in an attempt to provide comfort for the other boy. Taehyun tightens his grip on Yeonjun’s fingers, and he knows that it isn’t much, but it’s enough.

“I don’t get it,” Beomgyu mutters, shifting as he brings his knees up and leans his chin on them. “How can someone just go, or die, and not be there anymore?”

Yeonjun knows the question is asked to no one in particular, but for some reasons, he feels like it’s directed to him.

“It’s just life doing his things, I guess," Taehyun replies nonchalantly. “Sometimes you just don’t get it, you know? Sometimes you just don't get life,” then he laughs, a little too loudly, wholeheartedly. “Now, stop crying, will you?”

Yeonjun loves the way Taehyun sounds — okay, fine, content. Like he’s not sad at all. Perhaps he really is okay like how he claimed to be earlier. Still, Yeonjun sniffles as he wipes his cheeks with the blanket. “You’re the strange one here. Why aren’t you crying?”

“That’s the sign you’ve moved on, don’t you think? That you can tell the stories that used to make you cry without crying. I’m okay now. I don’t hate the _world_ just as much anymore. Come to think of it, I find myself hating my parents a little less lately. Coming to the UK, being away from home, has given me, I don't know, a new mind-set or insight or something. I'm not who I used to be. I miss them, somehow, in a way. I guess that's because no matter what happened or will happen, they're still my parents, whether I like it or not. They’re far from perfect, but I know they’re trying their damn best for me and my sisters. What happened to my brother changed everything, and I can only hope it’s for the better. I hope I’m getting better, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun mumbles under his breath, only meant for Taehyun to hear. “I’m sorry that when you look at me, it reminds you of _him._ But, you don’t have to worry anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, but I’m still sorry anyway.” He really is sorry. He’s sorry he’s sad and hurt that he ends up making people around him sad, too. He doesn’t mean to. He figures that sometimes when you’re hurting, you can’t help hurting others as well, though it isn’t your intention.

As the night unfolds deeper, Yeonjun then learns bitter truths and dark secrets about his friends. He learns that Kai’s parents had a fallout when he was seven, and that he stayed behind with his grandparents in Seoul while his mother left to Liverpool. She brought along Kai’s sisters with her, and that’s something Kai fails to _understand_ up until today: why she never brought him together. It hurt him — still hurts, he admits, for not knowing the reasons, because after all, he was still a child that _needed_ his mother. It’s a question that he has stuck at the back of his throat since he was seven, up to when he’s nineteen. He wants to ask, but he’s afraid he’d break at the answer — if he’s not ready for the answer, whatever that may be. For years, they were only connected by the phone, and she came back for him when he was nine, and it was a back-and-forth journey from Seoul to Liverpool and vice versa after that for them due to the long process of the divorce. They officially divorced when he was ten. Kai barely mentions his father, only telling that he isn’t exactly fond of him. For Yeonjun, that’s _enough_.

“My family weren’t toxic,” Kai murmured, his voice soft just as the breeze. “We were just _broken_.”

Kai then continues by telling that all the days when his mother was away was the hardest. Teachers in school began to pressurize him by saying that she was a bad person, wife and mother, and that Kai shouldn’t be following her if she were to take him away. It began to take a toll on him when people around started to call her names, right in front of him as if he wasn’t there.

“I was a kid, but I wasn’t exactly numb or stupid,” Kai huffs in annoyance, rolling his eyes at the far memory of his past. “Their goddamned words from their goddamned mouths. I was a kid, for God’s sake, so why couldn’t they be _kinder_ with what they had to say? It was already hard for me; I didn’t need _more_. Why don't you sit, take a bite from my plate, chew and then talk? If and only if you don't throw up first.” From his peripheral vision, Yeonjun sees Taehyun slinging his arm around Kai at the outburst, though the other claims that he’s all good.

Kai began to skip school after that, but he wasn’t turning into a problematic kid. In fact, he stayed home, playing spelling bee with her grandmother, did Math with her, and when his grandfather got home later in the afternoon, they’d play badminton and even go cycling. He says that if it wasn’t for his grandparents, he wouldn’t know what would happen to him.

“They’re my saviour. They really are,” Kai beams with a fond look on his face. “While those people _killed_ me, my grandparents _saved_ me. Everything’s good now though; my mom remarried a couple years ago, and I can tell she’s happier. I’m happier, too, but definitely not all the time. I can’t be _that_ all the time. I never told anyone, but after all that, I found it hard to entirely trust people, you know? I want to, but then there’s a voice in my head that goes _hey, even your mom left you; how are you so sure that these people would be different_? and it just… stops me, I guess. It’s hard, but I’m trying, and I’m trying not to be so hard on myself for the baby steps because I believe these tiny steps count, too.”

Kai acknowledges the fact that his mother came back, took her with him and for that he couldn’t be even more thankful and grateful, but the scar of being left behind still remains. It’s still there, residing somewhere in his heart. It’s what bad memories do to you anyway; they stick to the fibre of your being, and they sting; worse, they could control you, too. Yeonjun, for some reasons, _understands._ After all, it’s one thing to be left behind by someone who’s dead; it’s a completely different thing to be left behind by someone who’s alive. He’s happy Kai’s happier now, that he’s fine, and though he’s dealing with trust issues, the fact that he’s telling them all of these now — all the skeletons in his closet — shows that he’s _healing._ That he, like what he said, is trying to overcome that fear by shooting his best shot with these boys. Yeonjun thinks life was a bit unfair for Kai; because he was forced to grow up at the age of seven, to face the harsh truth of a reality at such a young age. When he was seven, he was busy making forts out of pillows and blankets with Soobin, while Kai’s childhood stopped at that.

“Enough about me,” Kai pipes, and though without looking, Yeonjun knows he’s smiling genuinely from the tone of his voice alone. He thinks that’s one of the most beautiful things about Kai; he rarely shows his emotions, but when he does, you can feel it — his genuineness and sincerity, bright and clear. Kai then adds, “Any of you, please continue.”

Yeonjun turns to look at Beomgyu, and the said boy has already had his eyes on him. Yeonjun cocks his head to the side, silently asking him to continue because he wants to avoid still, because he isn’t entirely ready to let the reason of his brokenness to be known. To be admitted, because it’s like finally accepting that _this_ is his reality now. That he finally admits defeat. Beomgyu seems to understand, and he breathes softly, sparing more time for the other boy.

“Well, I don’t have much to tell, honestly. Nothing worth telling, because it’s really nothing much,” Beomgyu begins, biting his lip, eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Ordinary family. Ordinary life. Nothing extravagant. Damn, I wish I had something worthy to tell,” he puffs his cheeks before he sighs. “But, if there’s anything I’d like to change, I wish I were _kinder_ to myself back then.”

He continues after a breath, sounding regretful. “I wasn’t like this before, you know. I wore glasses. My teeth weren’t aligned, and the front teeth were a tad too big, so I had to wear braces for years. When I was like nine, or ten, I learnt that I was born prematurely, though my mom led a healthy lifestyle when she was carrying me. No one said anything, but I went into self-destructive mode anyway and I remember thinking _ah, there must be something wrong with me._ I was one of the people who’d look in the mirror and hate what — _who_ — I was seeing. My family, God, they _really_ love me, but damn, my insecurities were acting up and I was damn awkward with them and you aren’t supposed to be awkward around your family; hence, I beat myself up for that, too. Sometimes, when you don’t love yourself enough, you’ll fail to see the love others have for you. I couldn’t stand myself, and trust me, I really _hated_ my teeth. I couldn’t even smile without looking weird and ugly.”

“It was tiring, you know,” the boy adds a heartbeat after. “To look at myself in the mirror and the first thing I saw was my undeniably big teeth, of being the ugliest member in the family. Can you imagine how tiring that is? I slept a lot because being awake tired me, but my brother had to complain. He said I slept too much. I know he meant no harm in that, but I think he didn't get it either. He's handsome as hell, he's got many friends, he doesn't have to deal with stupid, ugly teeth because he's perfect from day one, he's got everything to keep him awake, but I didn't. I don't hate him, though. I mean, I _get_ it because he had never been in my shoes, but I wish he were a bit more understanding. At one point, I even considered… committing suicide, you know, but my family was very patient with me. Years passed, and I finally had my braces off just right before transferring into a new school; I discarded the glasses, and I completely _changed_ myself.

Now, I’m not naturally loud; in fact, I _am_ quite an introvert,” Beomgyu chuckles loudly when the other three let out a snort at the unbelievable statement, shoving Yeonjun playfully because he’s the closest in his reach. “And I tried to be a social butterfly in high school, and I realised people are nicer to you only if you’re pretty, or if you’re dying. I was loud back then because I _had_ to, just for the sake of surviving. Because I wanted to have at least nice memories when I think about high school, you know. Though I had to fake some things about myself,” he admits, smiling bitterly at the distant memory. “But now, now with all of you here, I’m loud simply because I finally know how nice it feels when you’re _listened_ to. When you’re heard. I’m sorry if I talk a lot, too much and too loud, but damn, it’s really hard to stop when you’re being listened to.

I wasn’t kind to myself years ago, and that’s something I’m sorry for. I beat myself up for something I couldn’t control, and I want to change that; coming here was a decision made simply because I thought it’d be easier to completely start over where nobody knows me. People know nothing but my name, so at least I’m free from the judgment of the past — the person I used to be, how I used to look like. I can be whoever the hell that I am now, and I don’t have to pretend or fake things. It’s a tad too late, but I learnt that all I can do is be me, whoever that is. I can’t change the past, but I kind of wish I were kinder to myself, to my teenage self, though these days I realised I’ve slowly forgiven myself for not knowing things better when I was younger, so that’s that, I guess. All this distance makes me closer to my family, too, so I think everything’s shifting for the better, or so I hope. We’ll see.”

“Gyu…” Yeonjun’s voice trails off, shaky and unsteady as if he might cry again. At that, the boy throws his arms around Yeonjun, pulling him close, and his laugh rings loudly in his ears.

“I didn’t tell you all that to make you cry for me, gosh!” the boy rolls his eyes, and Yeonjun looks as he reaches over to playfully ruffle Taehyun and Kai’s hair from the side. “Now, before you start throwing me a pity party, I would like to confirm that I’m okay now, I promise.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Taehyun says, stars in his eyes as he looks over at Beomgyu. “But I think you’re really handsome.”

Beomgyu laughs once more, louder this time that he has to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, shoulders shaking vigorously. “You think I’m handsome?” he wiggles his eyebrows; his laugh fades into a teasing smile, to which Taehyun groans in frustration.

“Ugh, forget I said anything!”

Kai laughs, too, before he softly smiles. “You really are okay now?”

Beomgyu nods, humming in response. “Never better.”

Yeonjun smiles faintly at the sincerity that lingers in Beomgyu’s voice. He sighs in relief, eyes fixating on the reflection of the moonlight on the surface of the ocean, and he breathes in the serenity of the silence. It fills his diaphragm and he closes his eyes at the feeling, knowing all tad too well that his friends are waiting for him, wordlessly at that, to spill anything and everything that ruin his insides. He flutters his eyes open, and breathes, though shakily.

“Soobin… _Choi Soobin_ ,” Yeonjun begins, and he winces at the name that tastes so foreign on his tongue, one that has turned dusty at the back of his mind due to the fact he leaves it there many months ago and lets it remained untouched, until this point of his life. “He, uh, he’s a best friend of mine — _was_ — I don’t know,” he chuckles though it sounds sad even to his ears. “We met when we were five, and he had been there for all my life I barely remember all the days when he wasn’t, you know.”

Yeonjun tells them how they met and it was all thanks to his curiosity, how Soobin’s telescope was the coolest thing ever because it brought them closer to all of constellations, how Soobin could talk about the whole damned universe as if they were friends. How he managed to only score 24% on Calculus on the mid-term test, to which he laughed his heart out because he thought he’d score lower than that, but overdone himself by scoring a 89% by the end of the semester. How he wasn’t at all athletic but had joy in playing badminton and found his ridiculously tall height good for nothing. How he found mint chocolate chip ice cream disgusting but grew used to it due to all the times he had spent eating it with him. How he couldn’t pick a favourite book because he was afraid the rest would be _offended_ if he picked just one. How he smelled like mint and strawberry, but most of the time he smelled like _home_. How he was careless and clumsy in his moves but he’d always make sure Yeonjun was safe and sound. He tells them about the kiss on the forehead between two streetlights. He tells them about the intimate kiss on the nose before the spotless night sky even the stars were too shy to take a peek. He tells them about his dreams that perhaps weren’t realistic enough to everybody else but realistic enough for him. He tells them about a boy who grew up before his eyes, and he couldn’t help having his feelings grown for him, too.

He tells them about a boy who was a best friend, until he realised him as a best friend alone wasn’t enough. He tells them how he realised it a little too late.

“I love him, you know. I _love_ Soobin — I’m in love with him, my best friend,” Yeonjun whispers against the waves hitting the shore, words plain bare on his tongue as he admits his feelings and he’s sorry that these boys get to hear it before the said boy himself. He’s sorry he takes too long to admit, and he looks, and it hurts Soobin’s not around to hear it anymore. He clutches tightly to the blanket, realising how _easy_ opening up is when you decide it’s okay to be raw and vulnerable, and the ache beneath his heart is burning and throbbing, prickling at his skin and thrumming in his ears, but he’s _okay._ It’s _more_ than okay, in fact, because that means he’s alive, and he’s _feeling_ all of it because damn, he’s _alive._ It hurts, but he thinks that sometimes, it’s okay to hurt.

He lightly traces his finger over the bruise on his cheek in courtesy of Taehyun, wincing, before he says, “I think I’ve always been. It doesn’t make sense because I should’ve recognized the changes when my feelings for him changed from platonic to romantic, but I barely noticed anything because—“

“Because you’ve always loved him since the very beginning,” Beomgyu continues, finishing off his sentence with a sense of finality in his voice. “I’ve known since I caught you staring at his picture on Instagram many months ago. It’s not hard to tell.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yeonjun replies nonchalantly, shrugging. “He left to wherever, and I’m here. I should’ve told him my feelings, though. Perhaps I wouldn’t feel as regretful as I do now.”

“Do you think he would still be here with you if you told him?” Kai questions.

“Who knows? Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t matter,” Yeonjun chuckles lightly before he repeats himself. “It doesn’t matter. All I want him to know is that I’m in love with him.”

“It hurts that I see nothing but him when I close my eyes, but everything but him when I open them,” he continues, slightly shaking his head at the bitterness of the truth. “I _saw_ him before, underwater, and I realised how angry and hurt I’ve been, at him and myself, for the past months, but even more so, how _exhausted_ I am. Hence why I… you know, _stopped._ However, when you saved me, I realised it’s not my life that I wanted to _end;_ it’s the _pain_. It’s stupid — _I_ was stupid, but—“ he closes his eyes when he feels the tears are brimming on the edges, and he bites his lips when Beomgyu slings his arm around his while Taehyun rubs soothing circles on his back. “I _miss_ him, so bad. It’s hard when he’s not around. I feel like dying, and truthfully speaking, I’d die for him—“

“What if that _isn’t_ what he wants?” Taehyun asks, tilting his head to Yeonjun, genuine curiosity swimming in his eyes. “What if he wants you to _live_?”

Yeonjun cries finally, _really_ at the question because he _knows_ that’s what Soobin wants. He buries his face in the fold of his arms, sobbing loudly and if he were in the right headspace, he’d be embarrassed because there are three other boys who are witnessing his most vulnerable moment — naked and bare. But, he also knows that these boys aren’t just boys; they’re his _friends,_ just like Soobin. He’s allowed to be vulnerable and fragile in front of them; he _can_ lean on them when things are tough, like how he was with Soobin. He can trust them, because they’re friends, and that’s what friends do. He misses Soobin, and he’s irreplaceable, but that doesn’t mean these friends he has now a little less special. They will never be able to replace his first best friend, but that’s the point, isn’t it? If they were able to, then perhaps Soobin weren’t as special as he made him to be. At the realisation, he cries even more he thinks his tear ducts would run dry by the end of the night.

His cries stop many moments after, fading into soft sniffles as he lifts his head up. “Shit, I’m such a cry-baby. I’m sorry.”

“Better?” Beomgyu asks softly.

Yeonjun nods. It’s the most he’s cried since forever ago, and he feels a whole lot better. His chest still burns, the weight remains on his shoulders, and the wound still hurts but it’s much easier to breath. He smiles faintly, wiping his runny nose with the blanket. “Yeah.”

“Did he just leave?”

“No, he… uh, he left me a letter.”

“What letter?”

Yeonjun leans back once he hears the question, reaching for his backpack that sits at the corner of the tent, and draws out his wallet. He takes out a folded paper from one of its pockets, and he hands it to Taehyun. Kai and Beomgyu lean forward as Taehyun unfolds it open. The letter is crumpled due to the countless times Yeonjun has spent his time reading it, the ink has slightly faded but is still readable, and some parts of it are cockled due to the tears he had shed while he read it. With the help from the bright moonlight, the three begin to read to themselves, mumbling softly beneath their breaths as Yeonjun mentally follows along as he knows the content like the back of his hand.

> _To you._
> 
> _by the time you're reading this, i'm probably already out of the country. knowing you, you'd probably be saying things like, 'whaaat?' or 'for real?!" or 'without me?_ _!_ _'. admit it, you just mentally said it, didn't you? the thing is, i'd love to do that, asking you to leave with me. but, i think this isn't the right time to do that yet. you're going in a few more weeks, and you're about to build the root of whoever you want to be. isn't that amazing? i am deeply, truly, madly happy for you. you're a step closer to achieving your dream. which is why i decided not to tell you about my departure._
> 
> _here’s the thing: i would like to tell you where i'm heading, but i don't have any idea where i'm heading. i'd like to go to spain, or germany, but let's see. i think i'll just buy whatever flight ticket that they still have left, and i’ll go wherever the ticket takes me. i came up with the idea yesterday, which means, yes, i came up with the idea of leaving when we were having ice-cream yesterday. would you believe me if i say that was the best ice-cream i've ever had? can you believe that? you can't, can you? me neither. how could our usual, favourite ice-cream suddenly become unusually nice that it didn't taste like our usual, favourite ice-cream? i tried to think of any possible reasons, like maybe my taste buds decided to be more functional, or maybe the ice-cream maker had added in some special, secret flavour but didn't write what it was on the ingredient list at the back of the packaging, but i think that's just weird and ridiculous. it's 3 a.m., so i think my weirdness has finally kicked in. but then again, i think i’ve always been weird, but this time, weirder. that makes sense. i always think there's something wrong with me ever since i was a kid anyway._
> 
> _i just finished packing up. you can be mad at me. you have the right to be mad at me, or even hate me. you're allowed to feel those feelings because i'm_ leaving _you. i'm your best friend and yet i'm betraying you, taking advantage of your trust once again. what i'm trying to say is, i get it if you're mad at me. or disappointed in me. i get it and i_ understand _. and it's okay, really. i'm fine with that. however, i really hope, whatever i'm about to do in the next few hours will not only be giving me a chance to see the real, cruel world, but giving you one as well. we have been holding each other back, don't you think? i hope with me leaving would give us more opportunities that we'd miss if we stayed in our small town._
> 
> _junnie, i'm going to find myself; wish me luck. i'm a lost, sad soul, and i'm going to find myself. i don't want to be lost anymore. don't get me wrong. you make me happy. damn, you really do. my parents make me happy. your parents, too. but i need to learn how to make myself happy as well. i couldn’t depend on you for the rest of my life. or, could i? however, thinking back, even if i could, i would love to figure out the things that’d make myself happy and content without having to rely on somebody else. i don’t want people to_ complete _me. rather, i’d want a complement; someone that_ adds _more into my life, but even without them, i’d still be a whole. this is also a great opportunity for me to test my surviving skills haha_
> 
> _do you remember when i told you how my dad used to bring my family to places before we moved to our neighbourhood? those beautiful cities and countries and all. i think pieces of me are scattered all over the world — in ones that i’ve been in person, and seen on TV and books — that i'm left with half a whole, or maybe less. i don't think i make sense, but i think i do, too. whichever it is, i'm going to pick those pieces back. i'm not going to places, though, because come on, i don't have that much dough_ _(_ _i could've just used the word 'money' but Salinger used the word 'dough' so many times in the Catcher in the Rye that i can’t help it_ _)_ _but hopefully, wherever the ticket will bring me, i'd be able to find and claim myself back. and maybe, just maybe, i won't be_ that _sad anymore. maybe. hopefully. i hope i could finally be happy. and i hope it'd be as easy as i make it sounds. and i'm sorry for leaving you like this. it's so unfair how i get to say things to you but you don't. and that's simply because i decided to be reckless for once. i hope you’d forgive me, but no pressure, all right? i understand._
> 
> _but hey, i'm a wanderer. i've told you that i'm that. but, i'm still sorry, anyway! i hope this new chapter will bring you happiness, because you, out of everyone i know_ _(_ _it's not that i know many people anyway_ _)_ _deserve happiness the most! i can say my parents deserve happiness the most because they've been dealing with a total disappointment like me for 18 years, but let's see, mom has dad and dad has mom. they have each other, while you only have yourself to deal with me, so i pick you. you're just my person, i believe. i really hope life will treat you well, jun, because let's just be honest here, i_ failed _to do that. come to think of it, i only focus on my own being and my sadness and all that i forget to check on you. and i'm deeply sorry for that. it just dawned on me, at this very moment, at 03:09 a.m., that a person who checks on people on a daily basis like it could be his job, needs a person to check on him, too. it needs to work both ways, and i hope somebody'd do that to you. i ~~could~~ would do that, if you gave me time. :_ _) (but please,_ don’t _wait for me.)_
> 
> _also, can you please tell my parents not to worry over me? i'm going to be all right. this is what i want to do. thank you so much! i owe you again this time. go get your degree, and make yourself and your parents proud! as for me, i'm already, always proud of you. when most kids in our year were focusing on graduating high school with flying colours, you were focusing on how to graduate without hurting anyone's feeling. remembering it always makes me smile, always makes me warm, though i find it impossible to graduate high school without hurting anyone's feelings, because come on, though you were a quiet and reserved kid, people were still complaining about you for having no words to speak. but, it's all right. i like you for you, so don't change yourself just because you don't meet with someone's standard. or change, whichever you like, as long as you conform to your own standard and not somebody else’s. i know i’m going to love any and each version of you just the same. hence, do remember that there's still a person who's truly fond of you. and though the person's leaving you, doesn't mean that he likes you lesser. he_ loves _you, but he's on a journey of loving himself more. and he doesn't hope for you to forgive him, but hopefully there’d be a day where you'd eventually understand his reasons._
> 
> _i think that's all. i don't think i can stop if i continue._
> 
> _thank you, choi yeonjun, and do take care of yourself, all right? i’ll miss you lots. you’re still in your house across mine, ten metres away, but i think i’ve started to miss you already. i miss you. be well, and i’ll be well, too._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Choi Soobin._
> 
> _p.s. this isn't a farewell letter. it might not seem like it, but i think this could pass as a love letter. what do you think?_
> 
> _p.p.s. i know that i don't say it too often — perhaps never at all — but, i really, really do love you with all my heart. i love you, choi yeonjun. i’ve always been. always will._

_He’ll be back_ is what Kai says first thing first when they finished reading the letter, and Yeonjun’s glad the boys aren’t making fun of him, or thinking that the letter was too cheesy and corny. They don’t throw him questions that make him uncomfortable, that make him feel small. He thinks what happened to him is nothing compared to what the others have been through, but he’s grateful that not even once they think he’s overreacting or being dramatic over the fact that he was left by a best friend.

“I don’t know,” Yeonjun whispers, his voice cracks at the end. “It’s been almost a year and—“

“He’ll be back,” Taehyun interrupts him, squeezing his hand for a short while before folding the letter back almost too carefully like it’s a fragile thing and places it back into Yeonjun’s wallet. “He’ll be back.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“That's easy,” the boy responds not even a heartbeat after, like he has anticipated the question and for that he has prepared the answer, like a universal truth. “He said pieces of him are scattered in places, and for that, of course he'll be back, because from the way he wrote and talked about you and all, some pieces of him can only be found in you. Think of it this way: you're one of his cities and places he has _visited_ , or maybe you're his home or some sort. Thus, he'll be back — when he’s ready. There are things in life that one needs to figure out on their own; perhaps this is one of the times. Give him time. He's finding himself."

Yeonjun’s lips break into a smile. One that reaches the eyes. “You think so?”

Taehyun returns the smile, showing off his canines. “I _believe_ so,” and Yeonjun can’t help laughing easily at the recognition — it was what he answered the red-haired when he asked whether he’d get used to the homesickness. The only thing that’s different is that he knows Taehyun ain’t lying, and he appreciates it. He appreciates the truth.

“And Yeonjun,” Beomgyu calls out as he scoots closer and Yeonjun lets the boy to slip into the warmth of the blanket. “I know we aren’t Soobin — from the way you talked about him I know we can’t even come close because damn, he seems so _decent_ ; I know I’m not _that_ , but we ain’t that bad, you know. Soobin’s not here, _but_ we’re here. You can count on us too.”

. . .

The boys end up talking for the rest of the night, exchanging stories of wounds and scars that make all of who they are today — and Yeonjun learns that ripped edges can be a masterpiece, too. He learns that they are all broken and scarred kids, and though they are in different cabins, they are, led by funny turns of faith and destiny, on the same boat. As Beomgyu’s laugh breaks through the silence of the night, when Taehyun’s voice is warm against the cool of the breeze, as the stars find their place in Kai’s eyes, Yeonjun feels belonged — like he’s finally at _home._

He watches the clouds grow thinner as they make way for the sunrise, a bright ball of orange rises from behind the sea ever so gracefully to tear open the night, and as the boys run towards the morning, summer ocean, Yeonjun remembers whispering lowly into the rush of the wind.

 _Thank you, Binnie,_ he utters and hopes it’d be carried to wherever the boy who breaks his heart and yet still owns it is. _For leaving,_ he continues. _Thank you for breaking my heart, thank you for putting me in a place with these people._ It’s true, because Yeonjun realises if Soobin weren’t leaving, he would still be in their small town, because leaving would be impossible if Soobin were staying. He left to the UK, because Soobin was brave enough to cut off the ties and make the first step. He was running away back then, but now, _now,_ he’s not anymore. Soobin’s very brave, and he wants to be brave, too.

Yeonjun breathes, and once the waves dance gently in between his toes, he closes his eyes and whispers once more into the air.

_Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._

He opens his eyes when Beomgyu calls him out and waves him over; he breathes, and at the age of nineteen, _Yeonjun learns to let go_.

* * *

hello! first of all, i would like to apologize for taking a lifetime to update this chapter :/// as you all know, i wrote this when i was eighteen, and looking back, i realised i was quite angry at the world for being way too harsh, and that reflected in my writings back then. hence, i had to re-edit a lot of things here and there, and this is the outcome. i hope you’d find it enjoyable still! as always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated, as they are what motivate me to write more and more, so do leave them some if you like this hihi <3

anyway, if you want some completed yeonbin fics of mine, do check them out here: [magic island (our start line)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178123/chapters/71635335) for soobin and his imaginary friend, yeonjun // [little do you know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318968/chapters/64087981) for married yeonbin

till next time!


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